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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by LovelyComplex
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LovelyComplex

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Though it hadn’t been entirely intentional, Caiden Everett hadn’t spoken to a single coworker during the Los Angeles show. He’d hidden in his private locker room, and watched the show. As soon as the main event aired, he was gone. Now, it was later in the night, the sun was setting behind his back, and he was relaxing in the hot tub, listening to music, playing from the bluetooth speaker nearby.

The song he was listening to was important to him. When he’d first started wrestling, More Human Than Human had been his original entrance theme, all those years ago. Back where he’d started wrestling, back in Quebec, things had been different than in the AWE. When you wrestled in high school gyms, and the backyard of the owner of the promotion… nobody cared if you used licensed music.

In the AWE, in front of thousands of people in attendance, and millions watching at home… well, things were slightly different. Even in Japan, he’d had to use other songs. He’d used the original track three times: his debut, his entrance to the climax of the yearly tournament (which he’d won), and then at the closing scene of the Japanese company’s biggest show of the year, as Caiden Winters held the title high above his head.

Nowadays, he came out to the song that had been prepared for him personally by the AWE in house group. Once upon a time, Caiden had dreamed that after a few years of proving that he could be the best here, just like he was the best everywhere else, they might buy the damn rights to the fucking song so he could use it again.

Now?

Now, that was a dream that was crushed under the simple realization that nobody in this stupid company saw anything in him, other than Wade Palmer. If it wasn’t for Wade, Caiden would probably still be the face of gaijins in Japanese wrestling, and one of the most booked international indie wrestlers in the world. But no, instead, he was treading water in the biggest company of the world — admittedly for the biggest paycheck he’d ever received in his life, but…

For Caiden, the direct deposit wasn’t all that mattered. The money was great, but he didn’t care about money. Honestly, he just wanted to be one of the greats, he wanted to be brought up in every debate about the greatest wrestlers of all time. But… that wasn’t going to be the case working here. He had to go, somewhere else. Anywhere else, really, just a place that appreciated him and let him be the best goddamn wrestler he could be — and he knew damn well that given the chance, he’d be the best in the world.

“More human, than human,” the man bobbed his head slowly to the music as it played. Closing his eyes and adjusting slightly, Caiden felt the water jets hit a muscle he hadn’t even known was sore. He let out a long breath, and sunk deeper into the water, until it covered his head. Solidarity, it was all he wanted. He was honestly amazed no one else was at the pool area, but hey. He’d take it.

Unfortunately for Caiden’s privacy, solitude, and peace, the moment he would rise back out of the water, there would be the sight of none other than Joy Ryder, his best friend’s sister, stripping. Sorta. The brunette, whose hair was wild and free, having undid her updo once AFTERSHOCK was over, was taking off her brother’s giant wrestling shirt from Japan, revealing her delicate, fair skin adorned with a simple floral bathing suit. She smiled to herself as she listened to the metal song play throughout the pool area. Joy didn’t have a sexy bod like her sister but she didn’t have a terrible physique either. She was happy with her size, actually. Her eyes, legs, and smile were her best features and as long as she liked what her mama gave her, who cares what anybody else thought!

Slowly but surely, Joy’s quarry came up out of the water. When he saw her, briefly his expression soured, before it went… blank, as he stared at her, wordlessly. Again? Why did she always do this? The last time, had been intentional, that much he knew for sure — but this time… maybe it was a coincidence? Either way, Caiden was going to attempt something new: stare at her in hopes that she walks away.

It was unfortunate… perhaps fortunate? That Joy was no liar. Even if she attempted to lie, she would fail horribly. Her poker face game was weak. So, once she was indeed done getting herself to the point where she was ready for the water, she turned to her bag and took out a fairly large bottle of White Zinfandel, a medium sweet wine, with a romantic, pink tint to it. Her favorite! She then proceeded to take out not one but two glasses out, that were wrapped in hand towels so they didn’t break… what? She had a LONG day. She needed it.

After having rested both glasses on the short table by the lounge chair, she turned around, her hair flying in the air with her quick movements, to meet her blue gaze with the wrestler’s stare, “Hi, Caiden. Mind if I join you? You know what, you won’t mind at all. I bought wine. Want some?” By the dead set expression on her face, Joy was not going to take no for an answer. Even if she was using more… aggressive tactics to spend time with him, she actually wanted to relax and go in the jacuzzi as well. She was planning on going here all day, it just so happens that Caiden was here too, which was a plus. Thank you, Trinity. Joy wouldn’t have known he was here, relaxing, in the jacuzzi, if it weren’t for her. Sister’s got her back (and Wade too, who probably found out the information for Trinity).

“You aren’t supposed to drink here, I’m pretty sure the sign says so.” Please go away.

Would Caiden never get his chance to brood in peace? This was the second night in a row that she’d interrupted him, and he had a feeling it wouldn’t be her last time bothering him. There was no solidarity to be found in his lifestyle, was there? Someone, somewhere, would always bother him. “Joy, I’m kind of having a bad night. I don’t know if you want to be around for this.”

Having poured him a glass anyways, though it might be too sweet for him, she stepped into the jacuzzi with him, nice and slow, since her body had to get use to the change in temperature. Placing his glass beside him on the edge, she sat arm’s length apart from Caiden and gave him a sincere look, that displayed care, kindness, and worry, “Want to talk about it?” Her voice was soft and warm.

“As for the sign, fuck it. I will drink because I deserve it.” A rare occasion where Joy actually cursed. Usually it only happened during casual cases once in a blue moon, never on screen.

Did Caiden want to talk about it? Not particularly. He didn’t much care for talking, he was a bit of a man of action, he liked to think. But, for now… he would talk. Maybe it’d make her leave him alone in the future. “I feel misused here, in the AWE. Wasted. Left to tread water. There’s no reason that I’m not in the center of everything that company does. Front and goddamn center where I belong. I’m the best this world has to offer, and it’s disrespectful and infuriating that they treat me like garbage. And why? Because I didn’t start in this company? Because Roddy Quinn didn’t handpick me? I’ve made up my mind, and I’m leaving this company as soon as my contract expires, and I’m never looking back. They don’t want me, but they need me — they won’t realize it until I’m gone. And they sure as hell don’t deserve me. I’ll work for a quarter of my pay for a company that’ll actually let me be what I already know I can be: a superstar.”

Joy was stunned for an instant. With her glass in hand, she never looked away from his irises. The hardened exterior that is Caiden Winters was broken down in front of her, just with the emotion in his eyes. Oh, and she had come to a realization that he too had blue eyes like her. Deeper though, and sharp like a dart, always hitting the target where it hurts. And yet… there was still passion. Pain. Anger. In this moment, she was starting to see Caiden beyond her ‘brother’s best friend’ and her ‘favorite wrestler’. For the first time, she was seeing the man behind the face, even if it was only a glimpse of who he was. Along with the pain, there was something solemn swimming in his eyes. Stunning and real.

Realizing she was quiet for longer than anticipated, Joy shook her head subtly to snap out of her daze and took a large gulp, or two, or three, of her wine. Habit. People say she’s a lightweight and shouldn’t drink like that, but she can’t help herself! It tasted like juice and was absolutely delicious.

“You’re leaving…” She quietly whispered. Her attention dropped from his face to the water. It was nice and heated, but hearing all this made it hard for her to enjoy it. Caiden wasn’t happy and Joy, who usually was quick on her feet and full of ideas, had no idea how to fix this. Well, first thing to do was, stop looking sad.

Smiling once more, she inched closer, “They’re idiots for not taking you seriously. And in the end, it’s their loss. You ARE a superstar and I have 100 percent faith that you’ll make it wherever you go.” Because she believed in him, more than she realized.

“You’re right, I will make it wherever I go. When I was in the indies, the only reason I’m even with the AWE, is because Wade Palmer convinced me that I was a big fish in a small pond, and in the AWE, I’d be able to shatter the glass ceiling that I had reached… well, the next time I’m in a small pond… I’m going to rebuild it with my bare hands until it’s the size of the ocean.” Caiden let out a long breath and shook his head. It wasn’t Wade’s fault — Wade support him in every way, and built him up as much as he could with the management, but the past booking team hadn’t saw anything in Caiden Winters, despite Wade telling them again and again that Caiden oozed the elusive ‘it’ factor. Caiden had hoped that the new booking team would help with that, but… he got one shot at the title, then eliminated round one from the tournament. It didn’t make sense to him.

Joy stood attentive to him while placing her glass down and grabbing the glass she made for him for herself; choosing to drink it because he didn’t seem like he was in the mood for wine (that's okay, more for her). Even with the underlining sadness to his expression and tone, she couldn’t help but smile. He was confidant and so sure of himself. She couldn’t agree more. One day he’ll be the biggest star out there and maybe, just maybe, she could share in that experience… with him. W-what? No, she didn’t like him! He was attractive, yes, but she didn’t like him. Her internal thoughts caused her cheeks to get one shade darker in red, having already been pink from the heat. After taking yet another gulp of wine, she nodded in accord, “I’m sure the writers have something planned for you! Give it time.” Her voice came to a halt, as she sighed to herself, thinking of the inevitable results if they didn’t have anything planned for him… Caiden leaving.

“Yeah, maybe we’ll see. You probably shouldn’t drink so much, y’know. You’re blushing for no apparent reason, which is a side effect of drinking.” Caiden explained, reaching a hand back and stopping the music from playing after the next song rolled on. “Thanks for listening, Joy, but my life here kinda isn’t what I thought it would be.” He said bluntly, shrugging his shoulders and looking down at the water.

However, the water was only in view for a short-while because Joy had brought her head under him so that he could see her and meet her gaze. Her gorgeous, blue eyes looking up at him, batting ever so playfully. She no longer had her wine glass in hand, her hands daringly rested on his chest, and in this moment, it was evident that Miss Joy was indeed a lightweight, “Your life here now has me.” She leaned in closer, her loving smile never wavering, “Let me make it better.”

Caiden could only think one thing:

The fuck?
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Grimoire Gaming
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Grimoire Gaming Unseelie Faerie

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Collab with @Lovely Complex




Some call it professional wrestling, others call it sports entertainment, but no matter what you know it by, it’s left an unfading mark on popular culture. Famous faces like Wally Norton, Blaze Pierson, hell, even his father, Heath Ryder, The Ghost Ryder, have become household names. Part of that is thanks to people like Chance, who make men like his father look like titans. As a kid, watching the viewing screen backstage with his mother, the biggest appeal that resonated in his mind was the larger-than-life, big ass dudes that yelled funny, and at times, hella’ intimidating shit to their opponents.

Growing up though, while the wrestlers polished their acts, Chance came to appreciate the business and marketing of it all. He was no digital marketer, but he did know how to make an effective visual presentation. Keyword: effective. His job usually involved listening to Beatrice and giving her exactly what she wanted, which was one hell of a show. It was hard to explain his knowledge of cinematography, because it wasn’t something many people could get their head wrapped around without years of study. It wasn’t as easy as pointing a camera at the product and hoping for the best. There must be strategy, there couldn’t be assumptions on who your audience was, and there had to be short-form content, or you’d risk losing a fan’s attention in a split second.

But you know what the biggest thing was?

You had to be prepared. Prepared to catch the moments, even the unexpected. Constantly watching the talent and never being one step behind, always one step ahead. The moments. The stories. The talent. That’s what the fans wanted to see. The strategy helped keep it tight, but Chance helped make it right. AWE needed people like him, because without them, who would be able to see… any of it?

Unlike the most recent shows, Chance was not surrounded by a film crew, nor was he in the backstage set, the area with the backdrop of AWE that was specifically meant for interviews. Since he was outside taking a smoke, he had already passed the tv trucks, the photoshoot room, the makeup chair, and the set for AFTERSHOCK, until he was united with his twin just in time for Barbie’s interview, just outside of the star’s dressing room. With efficient speed and nonchalant ease, he grabbed his powerpack and put it on, then he set the camera on his shoulder, looking through the viewfinder at his sister’s face.

“Chance! You’re late. I can’t believe you decided NOW was a good time to--”

“Speeding.” Chance widely yawned. Man, she always freaked out for no good reason. She was used to this by now and was always ready when Beatrice gave them the cue.

“And we’re live in five, four, three…” Yep, there it is.

As if moments ago she wasn’t flipping her marbles, Joy held her mic up to her lips and smiled at the camera, “After hearing so much talk about her in LA and Chicago, I thought it was about time for us to hear a few words from Barbie Summers herself.” Turning her body to face the door, but keeping it angled so Chance could still see her face, Joy brought her free hand up and gently knocked on the door.

As glitzy and glamorous as the star herself, the dressing room door was decked out sparkling decor. Pink, so much pink. At the center of it hung a plaque that looked like a movie director’s clapperboard, with Barbie’s name chalked in neat, elegant script. Said door swung open to reveal the devastatingly gorgeous blonde wrestler. Her hair hung in big, loose, sensual curls that reached past her shoulders and almost to her elbows. She pushed her crystal-rimmed Gucci sunglasses carefully up her forehead and atop her crown of golden locks.

She sighed dramatically upon seeing the guest at her door, playing up the “I can’t be bothered by this paparazzi” celebrity vibe that her character was written to have these days. Barbie rolled her eyes, the lids of which sported an amount of shimmering silver and pink shadow that seemed more fit for RuPaul’s Drag Race than any AWE event. Everything about Barbie Summers dripped ‘extra’, and it was meant to. Barbie is extra, more extra than anyone else will ever be, and they needed to be reminded that every day. “What is it, Joy? You’re interrupting me heading out for a walk.”

Crinkling her nose, Joy sweetly apologized, “I know how busy you are, and I’m sorry for intervening with your… busy schedule, but I just need to ask you.” and in with the hard hitting question she went, “Last week you were called out by not only one wrestler, but two. Sydney Ellis called you a coward and Morgana basically threw your words back at you and insinuated that you, Barbie Summers, are a hypocrite. As we all know, she believes you are Drayden’s shadow and could not make it out in this business without him. What are your thoughts? There seems to be a lot of heat heading in your direction.”

“First off, who even is this Sydney?” Barbara asked, flipping a curl over her shoulder gracefully and ignoring any attempt that Joy might have at responding to said question. “Secondly, I am no hypocrite. Barbie Summers stands in no one’s shadow. No man, no woman, nor deity, is on my level. I’m a star, darling, I light up the entire night sky. There is no place for shadows when you shine as bright as I do. As for Morgana, the poor thing is just jealous. Her dark heart doesn’t have any room to spare for love, isn’t that sad? She’s just a girl lashing out at a happy couple, all because she is forever alone.” The blonde didn’t even look slightest bit sad at her words, nor did she look like she regretted any of them. Instead, she wore a matter-of-fact, smug grin as she looked passed Joy, and into the camera lens.

“I don’t mind the heat, that’s what it means to stand in the light. And isn’t my tan looking great these days?” Barbie extended her right arm to display the golden glow that she spoke of to Joy, turning her attention back to the interviewer now. “Is that all?”

Joy internally was impressed. The amount of cockiness and pride that Barbie Summers had was absolutely fantastic. Standing here, inches away, Joy was enthralled. She could only imagine what the audience would think. “No actually, it isn’t.” Joy took a step closer and locked her gaze with her interviewee. This is what the audience truly wanted to hear. “Will you fight?” Her question filled the air with heavy connotations behind it, before she added, “Today, Sydney Ellis and Morgana will go at it, to ultimately get to you. And I will quote Sydney Ellis’ words, for verbatim, Barbie Summers can not and will not fight me. Is this going to be the case or…?” Joy intentionally trailed off to get Barbara a chance to chime in.

“I don’t know who this nobody thinks she is, but sure, I’m willing to put anybody and everyone in their place. Is this… is this GI Jane? The one who wasn’t even worth Morgana’s time?” Barbara acted out the false realization immaculately, and then laughed a tinkling bell of a laugh. Placing a hand to her voluptuous chest, she caught her breath in a sigh. “Oh, this is bound to be good. You can tell her this, verbatim: Come at me, honey, and I’ll have you seeing stars, just like the rest of the peasants below me.”

The glammed up dressing room door was suddenly blocking Joy’s view, as Barbie slammed it in the interviewer’s face to punctuate her final statement. The queen hath spoken.

Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by LovelyComplex
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Collab with: @Silent Observer



Barbara sat curled up in her favorite fleece blanket on a pillowy couch in Claire’s hotel room. The fuzzy covering depicted Belle - the best of all Disney Princesses, as labeled by Barbie, for her love of reading. Beauty and brains is the best combination, aside from having all three: beauty, brains, and brawn, Only the most top tier of people possessed all three, and one such individual was waiting on her friend Claire to return with a bucket of ice.

The girls had prepared almost everything in their planning of this impromptu slumber party. They had popcorn, fried chicken, movie-theater style candies, a bottle of rosé, clean wine glasses… all that they needed now was some ice, and the festivities could begin. With a clicker in hand (her word for a remote), Barbie scanned through the guide of pay per view movies on the hotel’s cable network. There were a few new releases, and contenders for tonight's movie showings, namely, Captain America: Civil War, Finding Dory, and Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates. They were three completely different films, which made making a decision on just one of them a little bit weird. Hell, maybe they should just get drunk and watch all three! Barbara was depressed, she could be into that right now.

A soft knocking on the door drew Barbara’s attention. The blonde pulled her blue eyes from the TV screen - which was showing a preview of the new live action Tarzan movie at present - and looked to the door. Who could be knocking? Maybe it was Claire, and her hands were too full to deal with using the keycard. Barbara pulled her blanket off to the side and stood up to answer the knocks. For whatever reason, she opened the door without looking through the peephole, even though this wasn’t her hotel room.

On the other side of the now-open door, was the absolute last person that Barbara expected or wanted to see standing before her. Having let go of all of her acting abilities and wrestling persona, as this was meant to be a night of relaxation, Barbie’s emotions showed true on her face. Unamused. In-character acting or not, Barbara was put in a mood by the words in Morgana’s promo earlier today. The girl who stood before her was Mileena, not Morgana, Barbara wasn’t petty or stupid, she knew that there was usually a difference. In this case, however, the difference wasn’t easy to distinguish, as Mileena is all but mute backstage. As such, Barbie’s lips only parted from tight, thin line that they had formed, long enough to speak one quick phrase.

“Claire stepped out for ice.” That was it. Terse and to the point, verging on rude. No long, drawn out southern ”Hiiiii sweetie” greeting, as she used with many of the other wrestlers, especially the particularly adorable ladies, like Trinity. Barbara was an emotional, moody mess right now, and she was acting like it. Who cares anyway? She was done impressing people, done pretending, at least for the day. It was her week off and working for AWE was exhausting, especially being at the top of the card. Of course, the fame and fortune was awesome, and the achievement meant the world to Barbara, but having the title shouldn’t mean that she couldn’t have a cozy movie night to eat her feelings at without having drama literally knock on her door. Claire’s door. Whatever…

Ah. Everything made sense now. Claire deliberately went out of her way to pester Mileena for the past week so that they could spend time together, using the excuse: My pudding pie is always so busy. I’M LONELY! HALP. And because she wasn’t completely shallow and she actually liked how Claire constantly tried to be an important person in her life and everyone’s life for that matter.

With a deadpan stare, the usual goth dreamboat silently watched the blonde, who was most definitely PMSing. Her pink hair was in two french braids, her makeup was a lot lighter than her stage act would have it, and she wore an elegant, floral pajama outfit (a silk tank and shorts), with a cream sweater. There wasn’t as much black as people were use to seeing on her.

Crossing her arms closed the sweater to give her warmth, but also shyly hid her pajamas from the person she did not expect, as Mileena simply nodded in reply and entered the room. Not really knowing if she should ask Barbara’s permission or not to enter Claire’s room.

Barbara watched wordlessly as Mileena walked passed her and into the hotel room. Did she just? Claire… Claire, that little shit, she planned this all along! Well, Barbie wasn’t about to be the dramatic one. Life was too short, she’d just eat more fried chicken if this got uncomfortable. At least then something good would come of the evening, she can’t remember the last time she indulged in such a sinful snack.

After a moment of awkward silence, while Mileena sat herself on Claire’s king bed, the goth wrestler looked around the room to see all that was provided. If she didn’t go out with JP, she could’ve brought something too. Rubbing her thumb against her other thumb, a subtle tick she had when anxious, she glanced up at the other guest, who on screen she had a major feud with. She didn’t really know how to start a conversation with this woman. They never really talked. How long was Claire going to take?

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, as Mileena attempted to strike a conversation with this girl, someone she didn’t necessarily understand and neither did her stage act, “Finding Dory is a cute movie.”

The blonde, who was also wearing her pajamas, looked over to Mileena warily. She’d just said that something was cute, and it didn’t sound sarcastic. This was… a good sign? “I haven’t watched it yet, it’s on the list of options. Dory, the new Captain America, or that newish romantic comedy. Wedding Dates something or other, with that cutie from High School Musical… Zac Efron.” Barbara’s Louisiana bayou accent was thick in a casual setting such as this, making her words sound slow and slurred. The copious amounts of wine that she was about to consume probably wouldn’t help in making her more understandable, either.

“Call it my guilty pleasure, but animation film is my preferred film genre.” While Barbara’s voice had more of an accent, Mileena’s voice was lower than usual by ten notches. “Claire, however, will probably want to watch Wedding Dates. Since, well, one, Zac Efron, and two, weddings.” Shrugging at the options, a-ok with watching whatever, she looked over at the rosé, “May I?” The pink haired woman gestured toward the wine. This may have been a weird situation, but Mileena wasn’t going to let it bother her. Claire wanted them to talk, so she would, even if it took… a little time to get her to open up.

Animated movies, she would never have picked that as Mileena’s favorite, not in a million years. She tucked the Beauty and the Beast blanket around herself at that point, realizing that she might have more in common with this girl than she had expected. Barbie followed Mileena’s gaze to the wine. “Oh, yeah, go ahead. Might be a little warm, we were about to uncork it ourselves when we realized that we needed ice. Claire... should be back by now.” The southerner loosened up enough to roll her eyes and laugh slightly “I think she might have intentionally found herself lost She said the last word with finger quotes and chuckled again. Never trust a hairdresser, they’re meddlers.

After taking a hushed moment to unscrew the wine bottle, Mileena poured both her and her coworker a glass and quoted the assorted villains from Scooby Doo, watching the liquid pour smoothly into the fine, glasses (that honestly was probably Claire’s ‘special’ glasses that Kevin bought her), “...and I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn’t for you meddling--” She paused to bring the bottle upright and looked at the door, that still had no Claire barging in, “Kids.” Once she was done placing the bottle down, she grabbed both glasses, stood up, and approached Barbara, offering her the warm wine. Who knows how long they were going to wait? Wine would help.

It was, however, time to truly break the ice. “It’s funny… how long wrestling has been in our culture. By history, by myth, by country. One of my personal favorite mythos is based on Zeus’ rise as ruler of the earth, after he wrestled his father, Cronus. It’s always been here and yet… AWE has made wrestling relatable. And made us, near immortal.”

“In a sense, if only we had their true immortality. Being a household name is more than I could have ever imagined for myself, but it’d be even better if we could do all of this without the risk of injury.” Wrestling might be staged entertainment, but it was still dangerous. William was a prime case of the brutal injuries that a frequent big-name wrestler could sustain, and other legends have even died in the sport.

“I grew up watching wrestling with my two older brothers. I think the first thing that I noticed about it was how much it captured them. The power of the stars, to enthrall a couple of boys through a screen, people that they had never even met. It was like witnessing magick. Couldn’t help but fall in love with it myself, and the art of acting as a whole. I wanted to learn how to cast spells too, and influence the little girls of the nation, as well as the boys. Everyone needs heroes to look up to.” Barbara sipped at the glass of wine that she was offered. Warm or not, it was still her favorite brand, and delicious as ever. “Mmm, wonderful,” she remarked with closed eyes, wiggling her toes beneath the blankie in enjoyment.

Already half way through her glass, Mileena timidly nodded before giving an equal lengthy reply, which did not happen backstage, “I grew up… only knowing bits and pieces of my father that you know as Spencer Deschain, The Faceless, the embodiment of what the monster trope could only aspire to be. My mom beats to her own drum and when she wasn’t involved in the cutthroat business that is fashion, she was hoping to get one of her three daughters to be the perfect… princess type, I suppose. Failed twice. Third time was a charmer. I spent most of my childhood finding out about my father until I knew exactly who he was and as such, I went to look for him. And then I aspired to be like him.” Finishing her glass, realizing she might be getting too personal, she went to pour herself more…

Meanwhile, outside leaning on the door, Claire listened in on the conversation of her girlfriends, while aiming her phone camera toward her face. Biting her finger playful, she batted her eyes at the lens and then snapped the picture with loving intent. Without placing a filter on it, she wrote the caption: Thinking of you ;) to her baby. SHE HADN’T SEEN HIM IN FOREVER. She was repressed. Depressed. But ultimately, completely blessed. He was good to her and she loved him more than she could love anyone in this whole wide world.

The response was quick, Kevin always had his ring tone on for her. The picture he sent was a simple one, of an empty box of pizza on his bed, with his laptop open in front of him. The caption was pretty simple too: I’m doneeeee. We can do stuff tomorrow, cuz I just finished with all my shit for the next few weeks!

The response brightened Claire’s mood almost instantaneously. He was done! That meant they could have fun. Oh man. She’d have to ask the girls for help. One more snap, then she would enter her room. This one was cute and full of heartfelt love. She blew a kiss at the camera and mouthed goodnight, I love you.

The caption this time said: I have a doll and a witch in my room. 2 blondes and a goth. Hot. I know. ;D Everyone thought Claire and Kevin were completely vanilla and she was okay with that. It made their game more worth playing.

With that, she brought her phone down (she didn’t even have a bucket of ice) and she happily barged into her room, “Guysssssss.” She adorably announced. “Help me surprise my sailor.

Once she was done tossing her phone on her bed, she clapped her hands together and grinned, “...now that we’re all friends.”

Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by BrutalBx
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BrutalBx

Member Seen 9 hrs ago




Location: The game changing place. A viewing room with the most beautiful creature in it.
Interacting with: Mileena @Lovely Complex


JP had spent much of the evening chasing down Caiden Winters. Trying to find that man was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands (maybe he needed to stop watching Harry Potter?). The booking lads had caught up with him in the end and laid out there well throughout midnight, red bull and pizza infused plans to the future world champion. With the time left over, the boys could now enjoy the show they had written. JP was grooving around the place in his usual energetic and slightly out of sync mood. Today’s music of choice in John Paul’s ever present earphones was TV and Movie Themes, specifically in this moment, the mad scientist of AWE’s writing team was hamming it up to the original heavy version of the Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers theme.

Attire for the day? Simple and to the point. JP had dressed himself in basic blue jeans and the latest in AWE merchandise: the new Hector shirt. It was so new that it wasn’t even off the shelves yet. He had actually stolen it from the merchandise table with the swift bit of bop and bang chicanery. Kansas City shuffle bitch! It was quite tight fitting but that was simply because John Paul kept himself in great shape. It was somewhat a shame that he could jump in the ring himself, he might have a decent run in him.

Rocking through the halls, JP recorded his thoughts into his tape recorder “Note to self: Speak to the lads about tag teams, we could do with a few more. Maybe Sparks and Neon? Good enemies make better partners...additional note: Adam was the better black ranger, Zack can go suck a lemon” Moving into a viewing room, JP stopped in his tracks. It wasn’t an overly busy room, a few groups dotted sparsely around watching some monitors that had been set out. If he wasn’t mistaken, the eery purple/blue glow on the screen was indicative of the fact that one Gethin Rhys was making his way to the ring. The reason the South Carolina native had stopped in his tracks was because the last breath of his dream had just appeared before him; Mileena Winslow or Morgana to most. She was sitting all alone, writing into a notepad.. He took a hard gulp which almost got caught in his throat. Was now the best time to approach her? She seemed intent on studying the Rhys/2 Badd match. Maybe he should just leave? It didn’t really matter because before he had even finished his thought, he was sitting down next to her.

“...what you working on?” smooth moves, Carling.

Usually, Mileena would be attentive to what was on the screen. Her notepad was a small size journal, hardcover, that reflected the ‘Handbook of the Recently Deceased’ from Beetlejuice. Her handwriting was elegant, thin, almost like calligraphy, which reflected her upbringing in a fairly wealthy family. The last thing she had written on her pad was not the match about the Initiate forcing himself into the tournament, since she had a call she had to take, but about the interview with Gethin Rhys and Joy Ryder. Tension. Possible story arc to come where Joy is involved. Retribution teaser? ‘Bring me your brother in Japan’.

Along with her notepad, she also had a porcelain mug with a Halloween-esque theme to it, filled to the brim with English Breakfast tea and a cherry blossom sudoko book beside it, that she did while she watched the screen. Some parts of the show weren’t as exciting as others, so if she was bored, she would continue to listen but work on puzzle 102. She would finish that puzzle before she got to her hotel room.

Either way, yes, Mileena was dazed as she stared into the screen, contemplating the phone call that had happened moments ago with her mother. You see, with a mother like Charleigh Winslow, a person must harness the skill: filter out the nonsense and find the point. The gothic wrestler could only handle her mother and well, her sister, Precious, who had a similar way with words, in doses. They were a bit much for any person - very loquacious and into themselves. At least her other sister, Raven, was doing her own thing and trying to make it big as a female rapper. Throughout all the one-sided chatter, Mileena learned two important things: One, her King of the Hill, star football player cousin, who sleeps with everyone and anyone that has a nice ass and a vag, actually got himself a steady girlfriend. Let’s see how long that lasts. Connor. And two, her adorable, sweet blessing of a cousin in their large, wild, unapologetically wealthy family had a crush, which isn’t something that happened often since the boy would rather stay home and read Lord of the Rings or play video games with his best friend. Oliver.

And as such, her mother wanted to reward them and their friends… jesus, that was a lot of people… to go to an AWE PPV. Specifically? Starccade. The biggest show of the year. Man, her mother loved to spoil her cousins. Those two… especially. And now, it was Mileena’s job to talk around and get a large amount of tickets, front row seats, to AWE’s main show and VIP Passes. Great. Of course, Mileena loved her family and would do whatever she could do to give them the perfect gift. THAT BEING SAID, if Connor and his girl do not last, he can kiss the Starccade event, GOODBYE. Boy needed to learn to be loyal. Her coursing thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice that belonged to one of the puppeteers at her company. The passionate, dorky one.

Still with her electric blue contacts on, having not taken off her outfit from her promo because it was comfortable and she would actually wear something like this on a day-to-day basis (she never did leave her goth phase), Mileena glanced over to the writer, locking her penetrating gaze with his eyes that reminded her of a dark void. Her face was expressionless as ever, her posture was straight and proper, with her chest perked up in an exquisite display, and her voice was softer than her stage act, but still hypnotizing by the mellow and smoky tone it naturally had. “Nothing at the moment.” The wrestler flatly said, appearing to not register the fact that someone, for once, that wasn’t Trinity, her father, or a higher up telling her what she had to do, wanted to actually talk to her for no particular reason besides… talking. “... How about you? What’s your day been throwing ‘atcha?” Mileena wasn’t necessarily sure if she was good at casually talking but she’d try her best. Luckily, her time at the AWE has helped her not have obnoxious, socialite mannerisms.

She’s talking to you, don’t fuck this up JP offered the bewitching star of the women’s division a genuine smile. He had never at all expected for her to respond to him, with most of their interactions boiling down to short discussions about her nightly booking. They were by no means friends. However JP felt something, something that he just couldn’t quite put his finger on when it came to the dark temptress Mileena, he felt a synergy, something that he truly could not find the words for; the best he could come up with was kindred spirit. “Well… let’s see. The lads and I got here early, tried to tackle Caiden and tell him our plans for him in the coming months, that was a nightmare. Other than that, just the usual routine, making sure everything runs smoother than silk.”

The enchantress watched him intently as he ran through his day with her. They had something planned for Caiden? She wasn’t going to lie to herself, she was absolutely curious what they had in mind for that impressive talent. That impressive talent that Trinity hoped would get with her sister in time. That young, energetic underdog shipped Joy with Caiden so hard, if there was a ship button it would be non-existent from the damage of Trinity bashing it continuously. As she listened to him, Mileena looked away and scribbled something down on her notepad in silence. Still attentive to him by ear, but her gaze no longer on him making it seem like she wasn’t interested in what he was saying.

The writer stiffened his right hand to stop it from tapping the table in rhythm, a nervous tick and one he did not want Mileena to notice. As always was the case with JP, a thousand thoughts began to run through his head at a million miles an hour. If one were to peer inside the mind of John Paul Carling, it would best be described as a rejected idea from Harry Potter; it was a place with a million lock doors, stairs leading to nowhere, no one thing ever staying in the place that it should. Trying to sift through the chaos was a constant battle, it was why so many random things just squirted from JP’s mouth at any given time. Taking hold of his shaking wrist with his free hand under the table, the adorkable one uttered a sentence which he only dared utter in the mess he called a mind palace. “...I..I was wondering if you wanted...you want to grab something after the show? Like some food or a coffee, tea...you know with me?”

“How about a burger and some beer?” She offered, not reading too into his request to take her out to eat. “Here.” Delicately, Mileena teared a piece of paper out of her notebook and slid it across the table to him, “That’s my number for faster means of contacting me. I’m assuming you want to talk about potential story arcs for Morgana, yes?”

Unfortunately for JP, Mileena’s phone went off with the instrumentals of Ghost Love Score by Nightwish. Glancing over at her phone to see who was calling her, she heavily sighed, “Non-stop today. This woman.” Before grabbing her phone, she turned her attention to the writer, “Meet me here once AFTERSHOCK is over. I’ll tell my dad I’m riding with you. This would mean I also need a ride back to the hotel, if you don’t mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She stood up, answered her phone so her mother wouldn’t bitch about being on hold forever, “One sec.”

Quickly, she gathered her things and then before the distracted woman vanished from the viewing room, she turned her body to face JP. Her phone was placed against her chest with her right hand, her purse was hooked on her shoulder, and her mug was firmly grasped with her other hand, “Thanks… for talking to me. Sorry, I had to cut it short. We’ll have more time after the show. See you later?” The wrestler patiently waited for the writer to respond.

”You most certainly will” The lovelorn booker smiled giddily as the human personification of deadly nightshade poisoned him with her beauty. ”See you tonight” He watched as she headed off into the bowels of the arena and for what felt like the first time in hours, he released a pent up gasp of breath. He did it. He finally asked out Mileena, now all he had to do was not mess it up. She would be riding with him, in his car, together. You couldn’t write this stuff! Well he could, maybe not Kevin and Gary….wait she said about story arcs for Morgana? Oh JP, you done fucked up. She thinks it’s a business meeting.

”Damnit Janet”

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Silver Carrot
Raw
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Silver Carrot Wow I've been here a while

Member Seen 8 hrs ago


Collab with: @GingerBoi123






Andrew left the viewing room, smiling. His segment from last week had been even better that he’s hoped. In fact, it had even scared him once or twice! Now he was even more excited about his return. Even though he hadn’t wrestled for over a year, just being back in the AWE machine brought such a wave of nostalgia. This was truly where he belonged, and now he was single again, he didn’t have to feel that constant guilt of leaving a loved one behind. She’ll be happier with Brian, anyway. He’ll be around.

His happiness twinged with sadness, Andrew headed towards catering. With helping backstage wherever he could, Hector has forgotten to eat. This would be his second meal of the day, and it was late. He was famished!

Duncan was sitting in the men’s locker room, watching the show through his phone. His eyes widened when that creepy music played through the miniature speaker at the bottom of his phone. He had not got the memo that the one and only Hector was back. Immediately, the Brit set off to find the man himself, Andrew.

Almost bursting into the first place he looked, the cafeteria, he immediately spotted his quarry. ”ANDREW!!!” He yelled out before rushing over beside him. ”You’re back? Since when? What!?” He said in a rush. Duncan enjoyed the matches he had with Andrew before he had to leave the business temporarily.

Andrew recognised the voice and turned smiling to the direction it came from. ”DUNCAN!” the friendly Scot replied in a voice just as loud, before giving the smaller man a bear hug. When he let go, he chuckled, and grabbed an empty paper plate, ready to load up. ”I came back last week after finishing the shoot for my hype package, but I was tired so I didn’t do much. This week feels like my real first week back. It’s good to see you, mate! How’ve things been while I’ve been away?”

Duncan happily accepted the bear hug. ”I missed the memo. Speaking of the shoot, think that went over with the crowd well enough for the return of THE Hector? ‘Cuz, between you and me, I sure as hell did.” Duncan replied, also getting a plate for his meal.

Andrew quickly finished the large mouthful of food he had sneaked in while Duncan was talking, and washed it down with some beer from a red plastic cup. ”I heard the cheers, and the silence, more importantly. That wasn’t the apathetic ‘nobody’s cheering or booing but they’re talking to their mates’ silence. That was true silence. It was the sound of half the audience literally making no sound. It was like a void!”

Duncan grinned. ”That’s the best reaction Hector could’ve gotten. I prefer the noise myself.” He said, glad that he could discuss these things with an old friend. It was pretty cool how the contrasting reactions for different wrestlers achieve the same effect. ”What about the competition? Been out for a year and a half, that’s a lot of ring rust to shake off.” Duncan asked, quite cheekily. He was very aware of what Hector can do.

”Hey, I’ve been training for a month or two in preparation for this return. Plus I start back on the house show circuit starting tomorrow. Besides, I’ve never been the most fast or acrobatic wrestler. My skills are the kind of skills you don’t lose just by lack of practice.”

Duncan chuckled. ”Many a chokeslams you have given me shows that you have skills that make up for that.” In ring, Hector vs Clayton would be quite a show due to the difference in wrestling abilities. Hard slobber knockers from Hector to quick, flashy combos given back by Clayton. The fans ate it up.

The crowd booed as Hector sat up before a cover could even be made from that devastating spear that had managed to even floor the large man, though Hector was staggering, and clutching his head, and the audience knew that this was telegraphing Hector’s own spear….thing. The commentary team also hyped this up with the first utterance of what would be the frame for every phrase used to cover this move since; ‘Uh oh! Chaos better watch out….because Daddy’s Home!’

In that brief pause, the lights started flashing, leaving the ring in alternating darkness and green light in quick succession, and in this window, Hector charged Clayton and performed a spear-takedown hybrid. With Clayton now down, Hector stalked around Chaos with slimy, snakelike movements that looked even more disturbing coming from the giant’s cumbersome and ungraceful frame, as if he was distorting himself somehow. He was toying with Chaos, waiting for him to get up when any sane wrestler who cared about winning instead of inflicting pain would have made the cover.

The Anarchist lied dazed, slowly swaying his head to convey regaining consciousness. He slowly turned over and began to try and stand up, managing to push himself up to one knee, panting and clutching his stomach from the shattering force of an almost 300 pound man. Clayton stumbled forward, falling onto both knees as he leant against the ropes, eyes wide at the crowd, clearly shook from the impact.

Clayton’s recovery was slow and cumbersome, almost how Hector moved in the ring, proving the kind of strength the Monster was packing. Clayton turned around and made a charge at his opponent. While Hector went to decapitate him with a clothesline, Clayton adeptly slid onto his knees and under the tree-trunk like arm. He planted his hands onto the apron and swung himself around, trying to perform a sweeping kick to down Hector once again, but to no avail. While he did connect, Clayton had to immediately pull back, exclaiming in pain as he clutched his shin that practically ricocheted off of the leg of Hector.

Hector practically no-sold that attack, and turned menacingly and slowly towards Chaos as if that kick had simply made him angry. He grabbed Clayton by the neck, and delivered a devastatingly high chokeslam. The slamming sound it made on the canvas could be heard even without mics. Hector then made the cover. 1...2...3

Andrew chuckled and rubbed his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so rough with them in future. We’ve already lost Drayden to the shelf. I don’t want to injure any other members of the roster. We’re all too important.”

Duncan nodded but smirked. ”Hey man, it’s what the fans want. But you’re right, probably more now than ever…”

Andrew sighed, then looked at his watch. ”Christ, I promised somer of the guys I’d help with the setup five minutes ago!” He cried, shoving the rest of the food into his mouth and waving as he ran off. There’d be time to chew on the way.




Manuel had turned up to his first AWE show- BACKSTAGE! If getting the phone call from the business that told him he got the contract wasn’t enough to hype him up, then this experience certainly did the trick. Getting to watch the wrestlers amongst the other wrestlers was fantastic! He was sitting at the back with some loose tracksuit bottoms and a white vest. It would be ludicrous to think anyone knew who he was. However, Manuel hoped that he’d soon be good friends with everyone at the business.

”Mind if I sit here? asked the voice of a man who, after asking permission, sat down without waiting for a response. The man was dressed in a grey sports sweater, and black gym shorts. Looking at his face, though, it would dawn on Manuel that this was Oscar Sullivan, or Oscar O’Sullivan, as he was known in the AWE. As if to confirm this obvious fact, he offered his hand and introduced himself as Oscar Sullivan.

Manuel was like a fan meeting his hero. ”Y-Yes, Mr Sullivan! Of course!” He said, words tumbling out of his mouth as he accepted the handshake. ”Manuel Hernandez. I… uhhh… hope to be in the ring with you one day, Mr Sullivan.” Manuel introduced back. This… is… awesome!

Oscar couldn’t help but chuckle and be humbled by seeing a seasoned wrestler marking out for him. “I hope to see you in the ring too. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”

If Manuel’s brain could be heard, he was squealing like a girl. ”Really? Th-Thank you Mr Sullivan! That’s… well.... It means a lot…” He replied. The luchador enjoyed this moment. Perhaps he could learn some great things from Oscar, but of course Oscar has way more time in the AWE world. League’s above El Fuego Diablo even.

”You don’t need to be so timid,” Oscar answered. ”You’re a season wrestler yourself, and I bet there’s a lot you could do far better than I could. Even so, you should probably learn some things about how things work in the AWE, and with Will on the shelf, I have a lot more free time backstage than I used to.”

Manuel chuckled and smiled. ”Thank you Mr Sullivan, but compared to you and the other veterans here, I might as well be having my first match ever.” He joked a little. While Manuel truly did appreciate the compliment, he was also not delusional. It would be a tough, arduous journey ahead, but Manuel was willing to make every step even if the path was covered with shattered glass. ”I really look forward to learning the ropes of AWE, especially if I can learn from wrestlers like yourself.”

”That sounded like a request to be taught a few things,” Oscar replied, chuckling. ”I’ve admittedly never been an actual mentor before.”

Manuel beamed but stayed humble and cautious. ”R-Really? You’d help teach me and mentor me? I don’t know what to say… that would be greatly appreciated if that’s the case.” The luchador replied. This was exactly the kind of start he’d need in the AWE.

”Sure,” the veteran replied. ”I should probably find out how much you know first. I might try and pull some strings, see if I can get some house show matches with you this week. I trust in your ability to wrestle well, but that’s only half of it. Maybe not even half of it. It’s all about the crowd. They like a story. Whether it’s storytelling in the ring, or promos, they need a reason to care about who wins and who loses a match. Even the purest of smarks, who claim to their friends that nothing matters but pure skill in the ring, won’t get invested in a hypeless match.”

Manuel’s smile got bigger and bigger. ”Why.. That would be great, Mr Sullivan!” He said excitedly. ”I look forward to that chance! I promise I won’t waste it and you won’t regret it, Mr Sullivan.”
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Hey Im Jordan
Raw
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Hey Im Jordan Surpass Your Limits!

Member Seen 1 hr ago

Collab with @Lovely Complex
Ft. Joy Ryder, Justice Marshall, Claire Gilmore, Chance Ryder, & Roddy Quinn









Segment 3

“Okay, so you were in the hot tub with him, and you were drunk… then what happened? Surely, something happened, right? You don’t do something like that and just have nothing happen!” Justice turned to face her best friend as they sat next to each other in the makeup department, getting dolled up for the night. “Don’t tell me that the man you’ve been lusting after for your whole tenure here hasn’t put it in you yet! What’s the point of living life if Caiden Winters isn’t gonna show you the glorious pleasure of being cummed inside? Come onnnnn, Joy!”

Straightening Joy’s hair from behind, making sure there were no flyaways, Claire looked between Justice and Joy through the mirror. Oh my goodness. She had to hear about this. And as every girl already knew, she was all about confidentiality.

Oh, Joy. Did you? Did you sleep with Caiden Winters yet? SOUND THE ALARMS IF YOU DID.

Ms. Ryder didn’t like the attention on her, especially in regards to a male that she may have been highly sexually attracted to, even if she wasn’t going to outright admit it. Joy would deny it until it was true! Rolling her eyes at her best friend, letting one of Claire’s underlings put lipgloss on her, Joy directed her words toward Justice even if she couldn’t turn her head, “Justy…” Her friend could be such a vulgar woman sometimes. “I fell asleep.” Shrugging to herself, the interviewee admitted with hardly any care. Not even embarrassed. This would be the second time, in a row, she fell asleep with him next to her. This caused Claire’s expression to drop.

SHE FELL ASLEEP?! Her chances were limited and she FELL ASLEEP.

Justice squinted at Joy, a bunch of different responses flying through her head. Seriously, Joy!? Seriously!? After some consideration, Justice let out a long, drawn out sigh, looking at her lap. “This man just keeps letting you fall asleep and doesn’t make a move. I’ve made up my mind: he’s gay. He’s gotta be gay. Right Claire? Oooh, maybe that’s why he and your brother were always sharing rooms… I can get behind Caiden and Blake being gay. Even if it means my Joy doesn’t get what she wants. There’s no way a man just let’s you fall asleep twice without even touching you. Not even kissing you! He’s either gay, autistic, or… dumb.” Justice decided. As it happened, Caiden Winters was none of those things; but her mind was made up.

“He isn't like that!" Joy grew defensive, turning her head toward her friend the moment the lip gloss stick departed her lips. “Not ALL men think with their....”

“Dicks.” Claire cursed for Joy, who didn’t like to sound foul at work.

“Yes! It isn’t his fault he has a lot on his mind and probably doesn’t think of me like that.” It was in this moment, Claire realized that Joy had accepted the fate of being considered nothing more than ‘Blake’s little sister’.

The makeup artist, as well as hairdresser, gasped. “This absolutely won’t do! We must make you dynamite tonight. Yes. You will approach him again. But this time, full blown, sexy Joy. I have decided. After this show, I will make you my masterpiece.”

“You really don't have to..." Joy softly protested.

“Yes please! It’s sad watching her not only crush on him from afar, but deny crushing on him. It’s so obvious even Wade sees it, and Wade’s a nerd! All he ever does is watch tapes and eat donuts. Which I only think he ever has on hand to eat because of Trin…” Justice trailed off slightly, before puckering her lips a bit so that lip gloss could be applied. The end goal was to get Joy a boyfriend! Not just any boyfriend, the boyfriend. The one she dreamed of!

Joy opened her mouth to say something, only to hear a voice from behind say, “Joy, we need you in five!” It was almost time for Caiden’s promo and her chest felt tight. There was anticipation in her heart and a rush coursing through her stomach. Butterflies. She honestly didn’t know what to expect, since she refrains from reading the card. “Be there soon!”

Claire was almost done, curling the ends of Joy’s hair because why not? Her friend was going to be in front of her future bae. Every moment needed to count. “I’m not denying anything! Do you have any idea how Blake would react if anything were to… happen?” Joy grumbled in annoyance. Nothing good would come from her continuing her pursuit. “Unrelated but Trin will regret all those donuts she eats soon enough. It’s her daily diet. It’ll catch up with her one of these days!”

“Catch up… to her butt.” Justice remarked as she got up out of the chair, gesturing Joy to run off. “He’s gonna be pissed if you’re late, then you're never gonna get it.” She tutted, stuffing her hands in her pocket. Time to wander around until she got called.



In the massive garage, where the TV trucks resided, Joy grasped tightly on her mic and took a deep breath in. Caiden hadn’t come out yet, but it was her job to stir him emotionally. Kevin had brought her aside moments ago to make sure that she focused the interview on Caiden’s questionable morals and his threat (or more like, his promise) toward Roddy Quinn. As much as she didn’t want to pressure him, it was her job and the moment he came in the scene, they would go live… in the ring and on many people's television screens.

Her twin met her gaze and gave her a nod. Turning her head to the right, she saw the backdoor open. It was time.

Indeed it was. Flying out of the backdoor was a man on a mission to bring his message to everyone who would dare listen to him: Caiden Winters. With a chip on his shoulder and a vendetta against damn near everyone in this company, he froze when he saw Joy standing there waiting for him, like she alway seemed to be doing. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“Caiden Winters!” More of an informal interview introduction, but it fit the moment. Joy rushed toward him to make sure he didn’t get too far because she knew better. She knew he was a man on a mission, always. The camera followed her and then shifted from her face to his, “There seems to be some backlash with your threat at Shock N AWE Chicago for Roddy Quinn. Some people think you’re stepping out of line and need to know your place, that all you’re doing is ruining the image he helped build for you. Do you have anything to say about this?” Might as well hit him hard from the get go.

“Let’s me and you get one thing straight right here and right now. You think Roderick Quinn built my image? I’ve been doing this since I was fourteen years old. You think he came to a boy in Canada who could barely speak English and built him up? What do you think I was doing my whole life when I wasn’t here? I was in a real company, led by a real man: Misawa Baba, who helped me from day fucking one, when I arrived in Japan and he trained me and he helped me become the man I am today. Because of him, I’ve headlined the Tokyo Dome, I’ve won the Grand Prix, I’ve won the Battle of Los Angeles. Me and your brother held eight different tag titles at once — did Roddy build his image too, Joy? Idiot.” Caiden spoke with such apprehension, such anger… unbridled emotion flowed with each of his words — as always. The consummate professional, he never took the condescending looking out of his face; how dare she claim such a thing.

He’d apologize later.

Of course, Joy would rather ask other questions, but for the sake of entertainment and at Kevin’s request, she would keep egging Caiden along. Her heart did drop when he called her an idiot, but she knew better… it was all an act. Right? “Then why are you here?! In HIS empire? You want to be great. You say you are great. And yet, you allow your anger to influence your actions and all the people can see is you not keeping it under control and having a downright tantrum.” There was visible frustration and focus in Joy’s expression and her voice rose with every word. Did she agree with what she was saying? Not entirely. Many people, especially his fans, knew he was great, no, the best, and he had the whole package. But she’d play devil’s advocate if that meant he’d get more attention and… stay.

“I don’t say I’m the great, I say that I’m the best. That I’m better than the best. And Joy? I came here to bring the pain.” Behind them, a long stretch limo rolled up, and Caiden shifted his footing as it came to a stop. “You remember, two weeks ago. You asked me how I was gonna get the old man’s attention? Watch.” And then, as soon as the door to the limo opened, and Roddy stepped out of it, Caiden was on him in a flash, clubbing the old man with an elbow and then throwing him against the wall.

The old man never had a chance, as he was manhandled by the angry wrestler. Caiden threw Roderick Quinn into a random car, and when the true king of AWE slumped against the door to the car, Caiden picked him up by his shirt so they were face to face, and Caiden spoke. “I’m done with you wasting my time.” He growled at him, before he took his boss’s head and smashed out the driver side window with it, slamming Roddy’s face through the glass.

When Roddy slumped down out of the car and down to the ground, his face was dripping with the proverbial crimson mask, bleeding like a stuffed pig. Caiden turned, and walked directly toward the camera, heading toward the gorilla area, and when he passed Chance, he shoulder checked him, the camera shaking in response. What? Gotta play up the character.

Although Joy wasn’t seen on camera and Chance had focused in on Roddy’s face, the audience could hear her surprised and frantic voice, “Don’t let him pass out! Someone call the paramedics!” As calm as her voice tried to sound, it was obvious that Joy Ryder was completely shook. Her brown strands came into frame as she rushed to her boss’ side and then the camera cut to the inside of AWE, the stage camera, that aimed towards the ramp.

The music hit, and apparently Roddy had done a good job creating a hated persona for him, because even after the vicious attack on his boss, Caiden Winter’s reaction was loud and powerful cheers. Everyone wanted to hear what he had to say, and why wouldn’t they? He’d just went off on the only person that had supported him through this, other than the fans. He made his way to the ring slowly and with purpose; he didn’t have a match and to be honest, he didn’t give a damn if he did waste their time. This was his fucking show.

He rolled under the bottom rope and walked to the other side of the ring and held his hand out for a microphone — and, maybe out of fear, a mic was quickly supplied. Caiden, stomping around the ring as he spoke, his hand shaking slightly — he was hyped — began to spit the eternal fire. “Whoops, guess I beat down Morgana’s daddy; I better watch my damn back, that bitch has got daddy issues.” Snickering slightly, Caiden continued his monologue, “I’m only going to say this once, and I’m going to make it nice and clear: I hate him. I hate Roderick Quinn, and I hate everything he stands for. Now, hate is… hate’s a strong word, but I mean it. I hate him so much. And you know why I hate him? Because there’s one thing that I can’t stand, that makes my blood boil and that’s being ignored. And being ignored even when I yell AND SCREAM! For something that’s not going to happen, THAT’S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, and that’s an AWE title match… because someone back there knows that I am better than anything he has ever created, that his best creation — Drayden — could barely put me away when I had a dislocated shoulder, and mark my words, Drayden will never beat me again. Because I’m an indestructible wrestling machine, and I know every move in his book, I know counters to his counter’s counters. That’s fine, because Roddy Quinn can just sit backstage and watch me be better than anything or anyone that will ever step foot in this company.”

Caiden paused and let out a long breath. He closed his eyes and let himself calm down for a few seconds while the crowd cheered loudly. “There may never be another time that Caiden Winters steps into the ring at an AWE event and fights, but if there ever is, then it should be a good match; shake hands. Friendly competition between two great athletes… but it won’t be. Because, I hate everyone back there. I hate them, as shallow as it might be, because their bank statements look a lot better than mine after two years of being wasted potential here. Listen to me, I can only spend so many nights sleeping in my car, spill so many pints of blood, I can only go to the hospital and use a fake name because I can’t afford health insurance before I start thinking ‘you know, I don’t really wanna be so nice to people who have what I think… belongs to me.”

Another pause and this time Caiden was very suddenly fired up again. “I’M GONNA BEAT THE TRASH OUT OF WHOEVER STEPS FOOT IN THIS RING WITH ME NEXT! Because I’m hungry and I’m angry and I don’t… care, about anything. Right now, Roddy Quinn is being dragged back to the trainer’s room and he’s being examined to make sure yours truly didn’t do too much of a number on him, and he has no idea what he’s signed his company up for. Reality is going to give Roderick Quinn and all of the AWE a cold. Hard. SLAP! in the face.”

With that, Caiden Winters dropped the mic, and rolled out of the ring, heading back up the ramp.

He had to apologize to Joy.

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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by ZeusTheMoose
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ZeusTheMoose

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Sexton P.S. Love



The Man They Call Love walked through the doors of the Golden 1 Center in Sacramento. He didn't enter through the front doors of course, but rather through the back (as was his specialty), where some marks had already started hanging around hoping to catch a glimpse of the wrestlers. As The Lovely One arrived, a few of the fans started yelling at him for autographs but Sexton politely flipped them off while continuing to knaw on an old piece of cajun chicken form the night before. Ragin' cajun chicken. In a few hours he would probably have the hot shits. Hopefully not while he was out in the ring.

Nobody wanted to see that again.

Last week, Sexton had main evented the show in a tournamnet match against Thunderbird. Originally, the ol' Birdie was gonna beat him with his finisher clean in the middle, but after evaluating the tournament bracket Sexton had lobbied for the roll-up finish they went with instead. It wasn't that Sexton had a problem putting over T-Bird's big move, it was that he wanted to do it at the right time. When it really meant something. He saw that Thunderbird was scheduled to be eliminated from the tournament in the next round, and this presented an opportunity.

Rather than simply having two talented wrestlers languishing without direction, The Love Machine pitched an angle to the head office for a long term feud between himself and the Bird. It seemed like a natural fit and would give both characters a clear direction. Sexton simply refused to go through the same motions week after week, and as a result was consistently involved in storylines and feuds. Sexton had no doubt in his mind that even with the ongoing World Title tournament, he could turn this feud with Thunderbird into the hottest thing on the show.

Things were really going to heat up tonight, as Sexton was going to cost Thunderbird his next tournament match and cut a scathing promo afterwards. He knew he didn't require that much TV time in order to be effective, but on this night he was particularly glad he wouldn't be out in the ring for a prolonged period due to the aforementioned cajun chicken currently gestating in his murky depths.

Sexton made his wall through the halls backstage, saying hello to some of the crew. On his way to the locker room he bumped into Owen Sparks, a young up-and-coming wrestler he had taken a liking to.

@JamesMuddy

"Sparky baby!" said Sexton, clapping the young wrestler on his shoulder. "I saw your match last week at TV daddeh, and my heart damn near stopped! You were high spottin', hot shottin', elbow droppin', you did it ALL daddeh!"

In fairness, Owen's match probably had very little to do with any kind of cadiac problems Sexton may or may not have experienced. Nevertheless, he continued.

"You had a couple of close calls darlin', but by God you're one hell off an athlete. Glad to see they gave you the nod."

It was true, Sexton was pleased to see Owen Sparks get the win, if only because it meant they might be pushing a new babyface for the Sexcellence of Sexecution to eventually work with down the line.

"Just remember daddeh, you don't need to do too much out there. Save all that crazy stuff for the right moment, and make it feel special. If you do it at the right time, it'll mean so much more. Remember, it's just like kickin' it with a fat broad..."

Sexton took another bite off his chicken.

"...She might was to get all crazy, want you to throw her around. And by God daddeh, you might WANT to do it too. You might even be ABLE to do it. You just can't do it ALL THE TIME. It's dangerous. Your body can't take it. Eventually you'll crash and burn, daddeh. Even worse, you do it too damn much and she'll get bored of it, ya feel me? Make it a special occassion, darlin'. Make it special. Then when you put that big bitch in the air at the right moment...woooooo daddeh, then you know you did it right."

Satisfied with the wisdom of his analogy, Sexton clapped Owen on the shoulder again. He then noticed another wrestler down at the end of the hall. It was Oscar O'Sullivan, the "One and Only." Oscar also had a match last week.

@Silver Carrot

"Oscar baby!," Sexton yelled, getting the Canadian's attention. "Saw your match last week too. That's a great finisher you got there, daddeh. That crucifix cutter..."

Sexton turned and began to walk away.

"Can't wait to kick out of it."

He started laughing to himself, and nearly choked to death on a piece of chicken.
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Hey Im Jordan
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Hey Im Jordan Surpass Your Limits!

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Sometime before Shock N AWE Sacramento...


The booking lads of the AWE always seemed to take the place over whenever they went to a hotel room. The bed was moved out of their way, and a whiteboard was hung on the wall, scribbled on by all three whenever they had a thought to add. Notepads and binders were strewn about the mattress, containing all their notes and plans for every member of the roster.

The coffee table was covered in empty pizza boxes. and empty cans of Red Bull. As far as the team was concerned, this was the sign of a night that went well. The hotel room they were in now was just a quickly converted ‘office,’ and as soon as they were truly done for the night, they’d disperse off to their own rooms.

There was one piece of pizza left, and Kevin wanted it. After all, he’d paid this time. Leaning forward, the head of the writing team picked up the final slice of pizza (meat lover’s, of course). He chomped down on it in the silence of the room, the first bout of silence they’d had all night. As Kevin chewed on the pizza, the group maintained their quiet composure, and when he took the last bite, and swallowed down the last chunk of crust, Kevin looked up at the ceiling and finally spoke.

“Dude this guy is like impossible to find. I don’t know how he managed to be at the arena the whole fucking time and we didn’t see him ONCE. Caiden Winters is a goddamn master of espionage. So here’s the plan: we’re going to each get to the arena for next week’s Shock N AWE, like a few hours early, and camp out at the entrances. He doesn’t get in, without one of us catching him. Got it? JP, that means you can’t go hunting for Morgana so you can stare at her. This is important! The dude is legit getting upset because he thinks we don’t have any direction for him… Because he’s never around for us to tell him the plan!

Gary nodded, a can of iced espresso in the caffeine fiend’s hand, but then a thought came to him. "Wait, how much earlier?” he asked.

"I don’t go actively looking for her!” JP protested before downing the last red bull and throwing it with Michael Jordan-esc precision into the trash. “If I just so happen to find her and look at her longingly and with love I can’t exactly help that can I? The heart wants what the heart wants...oh someone write that shit down, we could use that for any future romance angles...where’s my damn pen?!” Leaning back, he almost took a tumble trying to find his lost pen. Grabbing it from the floor, he quickly scribbled in his notepad before looking at the other two. "What were we talking about?...oh right yeah, sure I agree. Get Caiden before he gets in the building. I’m on board with that.”

“Focus, JP, FOCUS. Gary, I’m talkin’ like at least two hours before the show starts. It’s important we talk to him before we relive the Twitter incident of last year, followed by the Caiden and Roddy screaming match. Look, Caiden’s great, but we gotta help him realize that he’s not gonna get wasted by us… the last writing squad really fucked him.” Kevin explained, looking between both of his friends, “this is do or die, lads.”

"Sure, Two hours is fine. So when we meet him, do we all meet up, or does whoever meet him explain the plan? I feel like it should be the former," Gary mused, finishing his coffee and grabbing another red bull.

JP moved forward on the bed, scribbling a couple of more notes. "We get it, Kev. We don’t do this we lose Caiden back to Japan. I’m calling it, the book for Caiden Winters is closed and locked. We have a plan for him, we stick with it, we give this bubba a world title and the Wrestling Journal calls us mother chucking geniuses and the heroes of the new era of pro wrestling.” Glancing at his watch, the adorkable one decided to close up his notes and start grabbing up all of his stuff. "Right, we should get going. Early start tomorrow if we’re going to beat CW to the arena.”

“And maybe, JUST MAYBE, Danny Church will stop demanding we burn at the stake. Alright, I will see you guys at the arena. In the morning.” Kevin pushed his chair back away from the table, and stood up. Heading toward the door, he added. “hey, if this works, I’ll have Claire put in a good word with Morgana for you, JP. Get it in, brother.” Kevin winked at his friend, but was out the door too fast for JP to reply.




The next day, at the Golden 1 Center...


Caiden Everett was surrounded by three people who were out of their goddamn minds. Who taught these men to speak like this? Did they know how to take turns? From what he’d gathered from their rambling, they actually had a plan for him, which was surprising to begin with… even more surprising? He was going fucking over. That was the only thing he’d gotten out of them, but no clarity.

Because they didn’t talk one at a time.

“SHUT UP. One at time! Go in a circle, fucking hell. How am I supposed to understand what you’re saying if you guys talk over each other endlessly!? Christ, it’s like talking to a bunch of children.”

JP leaned back in his chair and threw the empty breakfast bar wrapper into the nearby trash can before returning his attention to the mega star that sat opposite him and his good brothers. Swallowing down the last of his mid day snack, he began. "We get it, Caiden, you’re pissed because you think we haven’t been doing anything with you. Did you not hesitate to think maybe that was by design? A ploy by us to get you good and mad?” The adorkable one glanced over at his colleagues before carrying on. "I’ll put it bluntly; we have a plan for you my friend, a damn good one if I do say so myself. You are going over, CW. Not only that, by the end of this, you’re gonna be champ and you’re gonna have the best match in AWE history.”

"Of course, we could have told you this a lot earlier if you hadn’t gone into hiding since two weeks ago…” muttered Gary, who was stationed besides the door because Caiden admittedly made him nervous.

“Look, man. You drive things with your emotions, right? Well, we want this to be as real as possible. So channel how you felt about the company up till this point into your promos, your ring work. Make it seem real. Be passionate. That segment with Joy on Aftershock? That’s what we want. Don’t worry about what goes on outside of the company, we’ll handle blurring the lines as far as everything in the real world goes. People need to get worked by this — and they will. By the end of it, they’ll be wondering… is he really going to leave with the title? Did he go into business for himself? Gonna be great. Now, for the love of God… please don’t avoid us in the future, man.” Kevin suggested, dropping back the rest of a can of Red Bull as Caiden leaned back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling, lips slowly curling into a smile.

“Alright. Let’s see what I can do here. You’re giving me the opportunity I’ve been waiting my whole tenure here for, and I’d be stupid if I didn’t grab what’s being laid out for me, and made the most of it. I give you my word, this will be the best angle in the history of professional wrestling, not just the AWE.”

“Cheers.”
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Starwinter
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Starwinter

Member Seen 6 yrs ago



“Mr. Harvey, I'm going to be completely honest with you.” Alexandra's voice came out sharper than she intended, but she was tired, and this call had gone on long enough. “I have no intention of letting any of the AWE wrestlers onto your show. I've listened to your radio show, I've watched your youtube videos. You're condescending, and you go for audience shock value. Everyone I have spoken to says you go completely off script and are unreliable. I'm here to help the reputation of the talent I represent, and putting anyone on your show will only hurt it.”

Alexandra's statement was met by grumbling that she was sure was supposed to be tough and convincing, but it only served to annoy her further. She had just traveled from Connecticut to California, spending any moment she wasn't sleeping putting out the latest AWE PR fires. On top of that, her bag was full of files on the talent that was coming and going from the AWE rosters, and she barely had time to go over it. One new member coming from Japan already seemed like he was going to be a handful, and she wasn't looking forward to it.

Alex wasn't supposed to have to travel with the wrestlers, but Drayden had to relinquish his title, and everything went to shit from there. Put a bunch of hot heads on a bus, and chaos ensues. Caiden Winters was shaping up to be a particular thorn in her side, and if she got one more report of a certain wrestler washing down pills with booze she was going to lose it. With one problem following another, Alex got called onto the road. Sure, she had made the trip on a private jet, but the travel was unplanned and it pissed her off.

She didn't mind traveling, loved it actually. But she was a woman who planned things out and this was very much not planned. Luckily, her new intern that would be starting in a few weeks had also agreed to the sudden travel plans and would be joining her soon.

Alexandra pulled open the backstage doors to the arena, not missing a step as her black heels transitioned from one surface to the next. Her floral skirt swished delicately around her knees as she walked, taking in her surroundings as she went. Although she was of similar height to some of the smaller female wrestlers, with her plain black shirt and minimal makeup, no one would mistake her for a member of the wrestling team. Everyone let her pass by without question, as it was obvious to even those that did not know her that Alex belonged at the arena.

Over the din of the backstage commotion, Alex became aware of another incessant buzzing sound. She was still on the phone with Sam Harvey, sleazeball on air radio personality. He had been pestering her for far too long about getting some of the talent from AWE to go on his radio show. Not. A. Chance.

“I'm going to say this one more time, and slowly, Sam.” Alex said, done with formalities at this point in the conversation. Pausing to wave at some of the crew members as they passed her by, she stepped off to the side to check her watch, making sure she was out of the way of crew. “I have a lot of friends in this business. A lot of them are even outside of AWE. There is a reason I made it into my current position so quickly. A lot of people owe me favors, and I will be sure to call in all of them just to make your life hell. Goodbye Sam.”

With those final words, she hung up her phone, shoved it in her bag and ran a hand through her mahogany waves of hair, lamenting over not having time to get it cut before hitting the road. Almost immediately her phone began to ring again. With a muttered curse, Alex plucked the phone from her bag, completely prepared to engage in battle with Mr.Harvey again. Already she knew exactly who should plead a favor from to really put a wrench in his career.

One look at the caller I.D had Lex throwing her phone back in her bag. Obnoxious radio show hosts she could handle. Her mother was a different story. No, that call was going to voice mail.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Silver Carrot
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Silver Carrot Wow I've been here a while

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@ZeusTheMoose

Oscar turned when he heard his name being called. It was Sexton, in much better condition this week, probably due to having matches and promos to do now. There was nothing wrong with drinking on your time off. Oscar was a bit of a beer fan himself. He didn't even judge anyone for drug usage even though he'd never done that himself, but from when the came into the venue, to when they left, they ought to be clean, and professional at all times.

Despite this, Oscar had a lot of respect for the fellow veteran. He was no slouch in the ring, and he might even surpass Oscar in the ability to cut a promo, work the crowd and make stars out of his opponents. 'Might' was the key word there. Oscar didn't like to stroke his own ego but knowing what you're great at is just as important as knowing what you're bad at in his opinion.

"That's not my finisher," he answered back, "though...I might start using it more. The knee drop fake-out's lost its heel heat. I would enjoy a match with you, though, when your program ends. Think of the promos! See you around, Sexton!"

Oscar continued walking to nowhere in particular. It's as if he was patrolling the backstage area like a sheriff, making sure the superstars were all in line.
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by LovelyComplex
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LovelyComplex

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Collab with @Silver Carrot @Lovely Complex







Sydney Ellis
vs.
Morgana




Dawn was standing behind the curtain, glad that this week she was fighting another match finally. Last week she had to give not one, but two nerve-wracking promos. The reception was surprisingly positive, but that just brought more problems. Now people wanted to see her on the mic more, and she was still not comfortable getting in front of that many people and impersonating her drill sergeant, but she had to. She had to get used to this, and better at this, and develop into her own voice, and all before the Requiem Pay-Per-View. Even if she won the championship eventually, giving an impassioned promo at Wembley will be hard to hop as the highlight of her career.

The stage crew started counting down, and she put her cap on. Her ring gear this time was arctic camo. It was decided that would be the best contrast to Morgana’s black ensemble. It was time to make her entrance in 3...2...1…

The three month-young ring announcer, Vivi, strutted around the ring, wearing red heels and the most divine, form-fitting black dress. Bringing the mic to her lips, the young beaut gave a pleasant grin and an enticing stare, before unleashing her melting chocolate voice to the AWE crowd, “The following match is scheduled for one fall, introducing first, from Birmingham, England, a woman on a warpath, standing at 5’8”, and weighing 140 lbs--” Her head turned toward the entrance ramp and with booming enthusiasm, Vivi cheered, “--SYDNEY ELLIS!”

As soon as her music hit and she started marching down the ramp, Sydney Ellis noticed that, instead of the mixed, lukewarm reaction of two weeks ago, she was...being cheered passionately by a good deal of the audience, and booed just as passionately by another portion, mostly Morgana fans. She slid into the ring, threw off her cap, and began stretching with the ropes.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Introducing from Fairfield, Connecticut, standing at 5’8” and weighing 120 lbs -- this woman would like to be announced as the true sovereign of the woman’s division, MORGANAAAAAA!”

The serpent of a woman was darkly clad, as per usual, and adorned with leather. Her skin was ghastly pale and shined with white glitter to give her complexion a flawless, porcelain tone. As distant as Mileena was backstage, the moment her costume was on and the screech resonated throughout the arena, Morgana took control of the surprisingly introverted woman and was nothing but ready to put on a good show.

“Wade, Marcus. Y’know what my dream is? Seeing this woman, right here, with her father on that ring, or any ring for that matter. Her promo got me so hyped. For what? For LIES. ” Kane grumbled into his mic. The Faceless’ return was all a true heel fanboy ever wanted. “Sydney Ellis is going to keep this short and clean. End it with a Jackhammer. For all my broken dreams.”

Like her father, Morgana’s act was great for storytelling. Easily manipulated to make her coworkers, wrestlers that work as hard as she has, get the praise they deserve. The strobing lights went off and in a matter of seconds, Morgana appeared at the top of the ramp. Not walked but appeared, as if she was the magical creature that everyone believed her to be, able to cross the distance by dematerializing and rematerializing in and out of existence. When the music shifted to the guitar rift, her body as still as a frozen corpse, the devilish smirk wildly grew on her eerie face, turning her into a vindictive menace, while she methodically rose her palms up in a cultist praise.

Her first moments were dedicated to her twirling her body, her long, pink hair flowing within the air. With swift, yet prominent, movements, Morgana hyped the crowd using her undeniable charisma as a weapon and then strided down the pathway. The floor burning behind her with every step. Her icy gaze met the face of the ‘Nobody’, as Barbie put it earlier this evening, in the ring preparing to duel her. The Nobody who wanted to get involved in the witch’s cobwebs and lies.

The more Morgana associated herself with her enemies, the more she took in. The way they were, their tricks, their triggers, their… transitory nature… they simply gave her an advantage of hurting them from the inside out. Perhaps not today, but Morgana never forgot what was and has been done to her. She never forgets. She made a promise to herself a long time ago that she would make anyone who dared defy her, suffer. Getting underneath their skin was only the first thing she would do to be that burden they could not bare. She was the devil within. If there was one thing the sorceress did to those who diminished her worth and expected her to respect them, most not even bothering to see if she needed a favor done or two, not even trying to befriend her, well, then she would make their nightmares, her dreams.

Worst than her father, the epitome of a monster, could ever be. The devil tipped his hat to her, as she collected the tears of those she despised as pay. A damned soul. A soldier like Sydney Ellis, but with different means, different methods, and different allegiances. In the ring now, standing on the ropes, she pointed toward her screaming fans and yelled, “Is that all you got?!” This caused the volume to rise another octave. Years of experience shined through Mileena’s performance. Blood, sweat, pain, pain, a lot of pain, since she was a child. This was her passion. Her life. She loved wrestling.

Soon enough, the ‘deadly nightshade’ crept on her side of the ring waiting for the match to begin.

Ding, ding, ding.

“And we’re off to the races, I guess we’ll see if your prediction rings true. I don’t know who’s going to win, but I do know that the fans are going to get to see a great performance from two fine athletes tonight.”

“And whoever wins tonight gets to compete with Barbie for the title, so I expect this match to be vicious. Bring out your inner demons, girls!”

Once the bell signaled off, the sorceress slithered out of the ring with agile speed and hardly any effort. Sydney leered at Morgana as she left the ring for a split second, before rolling out and giving chase around the outside. She wanted as much blood as the crowd did, and there was no way that she was going to let the gothic wrestler escape.

Of course, who said Morgana was trying to ‘escape’? If anything, the white soldier was the insect navigating toward her trap, mesmerized by the desire to hurt her, which ultimately put her in a position where the witch could…

As sudden as Morgana exited the ring, she slipped back in and charged toward the area where Sydney was en route to. Perks of being the faster one of the two. Grabbing onto the top rope, she swung her legs through the gap between the mid and bottom ropes, her aim was sharp like a razor edge, her legs flew over the apron, and went right where she wanted it to hit. Sydney’s head. With Sydney Ellis prone on the ground, all the audience needed to do was blink and the next thing they knew, the goth wrestler was by the brute of the woman looking like a hungry psychopath. There was no hesitation in Morgana’s next actions. Picking Sydney’s face up, by her hair, the spiteful fighter chuckled to herself before smashing it into the ground. Again and again.

How’s your face?

“Vicious tactics. Say what you will about the AWE women’s personalities — and there is a lot to say on that front — but there’s certainly no denying that they all know how to fight.”

Tsk. A grimace appeared in Morgana’s expression as she thought about Sydney Ellis interrupting her promo. When Morgana was satisfied with the merciless floor kisses she was giving her dear opponent (as far as Mileena and Dawn were concerned, it was a perfect illusion), the countdown had started where Sydney Ellis needed to get thrown back into the ring. The spawn of satan aggressively pulled the bitch up and like the good samaritan that she was, Morgana shoved the Nobody’s ass back into the ring and followed behind, gliding onto the stage. Her stage, where she was the star.

To make sure the blonde wasn’t going anywhere, Morgana bounded highly in the air, using nothing but the strength in her jump and the short distance between her and Sydney. Swiftly, urgently, her elbow dropped into the other wrestler’s abdominal.

Not stopping for anyone, it was time for her version of the Sharpshooter. No Pain, No Game. Picking herself up, murder written all over her pale face, Morgana looked down at her opponent who was supine on the mat, seeing nothing but stars. Stepping between Sydney’s legs, with her left, she wrapped the soldier’s legs at shin level around her own, roughly. No remorse. Only pain and suffering.

Can you feel it, now? Do you see why I’m where I am today? Why I’m NOT my father’s shadow?!

Keeping her darling ‘partner’ in place, the wicked lady stepped over the leg she had caught in a grab and flipped the blonde over into a painful submission. Sydney Ellis was back to lying face downward, while the dark mistress sent venomous stings to the blonde’s lower back.

Fucking blondes. Just another form of plastic.

Sydney gritted her teeth, and thrashed around in the hold, silently yet wildly selling the great pain that the hold was inflicting on her. She went still, and was squeezing her right arm with her left hand. Finally a mini-victory for Morgana as the powerhouse yelled out in pain.

“There’s the hold that we’ve seen so many times in the past. It’s won so many battles in the past, maybe it’ll clinch the victory here.”

“All Morgana wants is to go back to the time where she had it all. But that’s the thing, time’s a changin and like you said earlier, the women’s division is thriving with talented wrestlers. Hungry for the spotlight.”

A few seconds later, Sydney put both hands to the mat, and started to slowly and agonizingly lift her upper body up, then she took one hand away, and in one swift motion, with a quick burst of strength, reared up, reached back and grabbed Morgana’s face with her hand, before pulling her back so that her other hand could reach her, and falling front-first back to the mat, applied a crossface to the painfully bent back Morgana. They now both had each other in submission holds!

“And just like that, Sydney is back in the fight! This is what I love about this business, anything can happen and it only takes one second for the momentum in a fight to shift — or in this case, for an unstoppable force to meet an immovable object.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat. Who knows who’s going to win?! These girls are too damn good.” Kane couldn’t contain his marking out.

After a brief, painful stalemate, Morgana let go, her face tinted red from the pressure, as did Sydney, and they rolled away from each other, getting back to their feet. Sydney then adopted an MMA stance, and advanced on the taller (by centimeters) yet not as muscular woman. She threw a jab or two, which Morgana dodged, followed by a few legsweep attempts, which were also overcome, though they had the effect of keeping Morgana on the defensive.

Unfortunately for the snake, dodging Sydney Ellis didn’t last as long as she would have wanted it to. The army girl feinted to the right and smacked Morgana with a hard left, flooring her. (It didn’t actually connect. Dawn was trying to be careful about that after all the bruises she was responsible for two weeks ago.)

"And just like that, the unstoppable force has moved the immovable object!”

With both arms, Sydney then picked the prone wrestler up and put her over her shoulder. She charged to one of the corners, ramming her into it with all her might, then turned and did the same with the opposite one, before jerking Morgana up onto her shoulders and leaving her there for a while as she played the crowd a little, strutting around and flexing. Sydney then slammed her hard to the ground, and tried for a cover. 1...2. Kickout at 2. It wasn’t even a close 2 count. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy to put away the former women’s champion. Lifting Morgana to her feet with one hand, she then flung her into the ropes, waiting for her to come back, her arm ready for a devastating clothesline.

Morgana may have not been as chiseled as the powerhouse waiting to knock her over with her arm, but she was one of the most ruthless competitors on the AWE roster today. Never losing her affinity for physical torture, the perplexing enigma that was Morgana ricocheted off the ropes, evaded the clothesline, and allowed herself to be the David in David and Goliath.

"Effortless movement from Morgana, just like gravity forgot her. She never fails to impress with how easily she can move her body!”

“Both women are terrifying in their own way and you have to expect neither of them are going to let this opportunity slip out of their hands. I want to play this back in slow motion just to see how flawless Morgana’s moves are.”

Effortlessly to the crowd’s eye, Morgana threw herself onto her foe’s body, hugging her legs around Sydney’s neck. After twisting and flying on all sides of the powerhouse until her right leg naturally hooked over Sydney’s left, she trapped the blonde’s arm within her own. The enchantress used her left leg, which had already been draped over the soldier's neck, to force Sydney down to one side. This was her version of the Octopus hold. One of her remarkable finishers, a torso-twisting submission maneuver, the Anaconda squeeze. Anacondas hunt for a variety of prey, under the cover of darkness. They lurk in the murky waters, waiting for a prey to give them the opportunity to attack. Sydney Ellis was caught in Morgana’s restrain. Trapped. The former champion applied her constrictive technique to finish her prey off.

"Another submission hold from AWE’s wicked witch of the east! The military conditioning that Sydney has is surely coming into play here to keep her from tapping out immediately! It takes a lot of heart, a lot of guts, and a lot of pride to not submit when the hold is locked in like that, twisting and squeezing the life out of you — a snake looking to finish off her prey.”

“The best option for the soldier is to batter Morgana until she releases her! Children, don’t go playing with snakes now.”

In response, Sydney fell to one knee, arms shaking as she’s caught in her second submission of the night from Morgana. She roared loudly, trying to get her adrenaline pumping, while riling herself up, and then forced herself off her knee, returning to a stand. After a few more seconds of enduring the pain and gathering her strength, she grabbed Morgana’s body with both hands and charged straight for the turnbuckles, ramming her against them hard and forcing her to relinquish her grip. With Sydney free, and Morgana in the corner, the powerhouse started delivering stiff lariat after stiff lariat to the dazed goth.

Was this the end for the witch?

“Right here, right now in the corner of the AWE ring, we’re watching a witch be burned at the stake!”

The entire arena promptly went black and a compilation of noises could be heard causing the audience to go in an uproar. Wind chimes, children laughter, little girls chanting ‘ashes, ashes, they all fell down’, spine-chilling wind, and a distant, ominous piano… the she-devil was forming her next attack.

"What’s this?”

While the piano still played, but the lights flashed on, Morgana was now behind the woman who thought she was more worth fighting Barbie than she. A woman who DARED defy her. Her head was tilted and her deep, frost eyes were crazed, but what really got the crowd going was the sinister serpent had a chair in her hands and her shallow smile betrayed all innocence. The referee, however, had vanished entirely.

"Oh no, not like this! Where’s the ref!? There needs to be a stop to this before it gets out of hand! Get another referee out here to stop this!”

“Jesus. This is why you don’t mess with witches! They got supernatural powers that’ll change the whole game.”

Murder was an understatement of what Morgana wanted. With utmost force, the pink haired wrestler collided the chair with the back of Sydney’s body. Smash after smash after smash. Where was her heart? Out for blood, no longer was her sight on the reward. She wanted Sydney Ellis to regret ever stepping out of line. Soldiers were pawns, not leaders.

Climb, soldier.

"Again and again with the chair! Have you no heart, Morgana?! Have you no sense of honor!? No soul!?”

“I’m pretty sure witches sell their soul for their power…”

Breathing heavily, the sound effects coming to a close, this match definitely putting the heartless woman through one hell of an exhausting battle, Morgana tossed the chair out of the ring. Sydney was back on the floor, in massive amount of pain. Running her hand through her long, pink locks, closing her eyes to take a moment to breath in the mystic air around her, Morgana relished in the crowd’s cheers, roars, screams… the heat. Snapping her eyes back open, she returned to her opponent’s side and went to pick her up to finish this match once and for all. Meanwhile, a second referee had rushingly made their way to the ring and slid through the ropes.

"Here comes another official! Surely this is the end for Sydney.”

Before the goth wrestler could lay another attack on her, Sydney knocked away the hands that were pulling her up. Grabbing Morgana’s head, she hit her with a BFT, sending Morgana reeling.

"Sydney is getting back control, and dammit she deserves it after that despicable act from the wicked bitch of the AWE! Take over Sydney! Put her down!”

Back on her feet, and back in control, Sydney swooped down and lifted Morgana up into a Gorilla Press, before simply dropping her and letting her fall over five feet to the canvas. In a strangely uncharacteristic move, the blonde powerhouse then pointed her finger to the sky in a odd fluid and sensual motion for the military punk, that was instantly recognizable as one of Barbie’s taunts, and to complement this, she grabbed Morgana’s leg, and applied the winding and twisting hold that was equally recognisable as Barbie’s signature submission; Legally Blonde.

"That’s Barbie’s move! Is Sydney going to send a message to the women’s champion by finishing off her greatest rival with her own MOVE?”

“Oh dude, I can’t even handle this right now. It’s so weird seeing Sydney Ellis pull a Barbie. Man, I thought the match would end with a Jackhammer. But who knows?! Morgana could have more fight in her left and the Legally Blonde will not be the way she goes... again!”

Not only was Morgana stunned by this, but she was in absolute, excruciating pain and it showed in her face. Every attempt she did to try to escape only failed and reluctantly she tried to tap out. She had to. And yet, Sydney saw the hand about to tap out and forcefully grabbed it, before immediately releasing the hold and shaking her head.

Not like this.

She’s not going to win like this. Pulling Morgana up by her arm, she threw it over her shoulder, lifting Morgana up in a perfect vertical line, and delivered a devastating Jackhammer!

"Stick a fork in Morgana, she’s done.”

She makes the cover. 1...2...3!

"And just like that, we have a new number one contender! If you ask me, Barbie had better watch her back, because her perfect queendom has never been in more danger than it is right now.”

“RIP Morgana.”

The bell rang, and Sydney stood up, no longer looking at Morgana, as if, now that she has been conquered, the goth no longer existed. She let the ref raise her hand, then rolled out the ring, retrieving her cap. With nothing left to be said or proved, she marched back up the ramp to the sound of a deafening, mixed reaction. Finally, Dawn thought. She was making some waves!

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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by GingerBoi123
Raw
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GingerBoi123

Member Seen 13 days ago










Collab with @alexfangtalon


The audience had been very surprised by the unexpected attack that Caiden had dealt to Roddy, but they weren’t able to dwell on the surprise long because the titantron went dark and the well known phrase from V for Vendetta began to start. The lights were dimmed to a mixture of some dark blue and some dark red. As the song started a solitary figure stepped out in front of the crowd with his signature weapon. As the beat began to pick up the lights got brighter and moved rapidly around the stadium. Initiate simply stood there as the crowd cheered. As the singers voice said ‘death’ Initiate began rushing down the ramp.

He then noticed a small cluster of people sitting in the front seats wearing the mask. Mathys smiled as he walked to them. He held his hand up in a fist and the ones wearing a mask joined in crossing all their arms with fists held up above them. He stayed there a moment then backed away and slid into the ring. Once in the ring he moved to the center and got to his knees. Grabbing the bat with both hands, one on each end, he sat there for a moment then proceeded to hit the mat a few times with the bat. Standing up he took his jacket off and then tossed them outside the ring in front of the commentators.

A few brief moments later, the Golden One Centre was sunk into crimson red. The titantron flourished back to life, showing the signature silver symbol of Anarchy. Mathys’ opponent walked out, head down until the music crescendoed into the lyrics, and the wave of fire erupted either side of Chaos Clayton, and his wild, crazy eyes scanned the crowd. This time, Clayton’s hair highlights and cargo pants were a dirty, mustard yellow. Clayton then fixated on the cluster of “Initiates” at the end of the ramp. He then procured a copy-cat mask, but this time it was cracked across it. He waved it about as he strode across the ramp.

Clayton faced the camera and put the mask beside his face, running his thumb across his neck then turning to Initiate who stood in the ring. Clayton pointed at the Opponent and tossed the mask towards the side of the ring, sliding to the bottom of the ring before the Anarchist leapt up and turned back to the crowd, roaring out before stepping in. Clayton got right up to the Initiate and pressed his forehead against the mask. It took the referee to push Clayton away and get the two in the corners for the match to start properly.

“This match is going to be an all out war between the idea of Chaos and the power of Revolution. Whoever wins this match is going to be able to advance in the tournament and push his agenda on the AWE with force! Holding the world title brings all eyes on you, and if you have those eyes… your message will be heard.”

Initiate cocked his head as the ref made Clayton go to his corner. When the bell rang Initiate slowly moved towards the man he nearly towered over. Initiate made the motions to go for a collar and elbow tie up but as Clayton reacted Initiate brought his leg up to kick Clayton right in the gut. Quickly Initiate grabbed Clayton’s head in a sprawl position. It was obvious at this point what Initiate was doing. Keeping Clayton on the ground should cancel out his brawling and high flying.

“The Initiate is doing his best to keep the Anarchist down on the ground so he can’t do what we all know him for: flying high and knocking heads. If he can keep the okizeme rolling, then this match is almost a surefire victory for him.”

“The what now? Is that even a proper Japanese word?”

“It’s a video game thing… it means ground game.”

“WHAT A NERD.” Kane chuckled to himself and continued his banter, “Nurdddddddddd.”

Clayton grasped at Initiates’ arms, managing to scramble up onto his knees but was nowhere near able to push the Initiate off just yet. Clayton attempted to wrench Initiate away but it was clear that his strength would get sapped away too soon if he couldn’t break away. The Anarchist freed up one arm to strike Initiates’ abdomen to try and force his opponent to deal with two things at once.

“Clean moves from Clayton, he’s fighting back. He doesn’t want to be kept on the ground game for very long!”

“It’s a game of wits now so Chaos Clayton can have the high ground. What the Initiate doesn’t realize is great changes usually start with a bit of chaos. The power of a revolution needs the idea of chaos.”

Initiate took the blows to his abdomen in order to try and switch the hold to where Clayton couldn’t hit him. Initiate slowly started standing bringing Clayton up. Before getting fully to his feet Initiate grabbed Clayton’s head and slammed him down into the mat. Initiate jumped in the air and delivered an elbow drop to Clayton’s torso. He quickly moved into a pin trying to hold Clayton down.

“An early pin here from the Initiate, he’s looking to close this match out as fast as he can. And who can blame him? The ideal way to advance in the tournament is quick and fast, don’t you think? Save your energy for the next match. Save it for the finals.”

“No. I don’t agree. That just means he ain’t got enough endurance. The best way to advance is to tire your opponent out so you’re guaranteed to win. If you don’t got enough energy and drive, what are you doing in the ring?!”

Clayton only had a brief opportunity to hold the back of his head from the slam before taking a gravity-fuelled elbow drop from the Initiate. The referee slapped the mat once before Clayton managed to kick out.

“Of course that isn’t going to work with Clayton! He’s got a lot left in the tank, you’ll have to do better than that to put him away! He’s got a lot left in the tank!”

“It’s the endurance, man. Fueled by pure mayhem. Chaos Clayton can fight all day, everyday.”

He attempted to roll away to the side of the ring and clutching the ropes, using them to help him scramble up onto his feet. Clayton sprinted at the Initiate, leaping up to deliver a flying forearm smash.

Initiate stood up from the failed pin and watched curiously as Clayton rolled towards the ropes. When he got up and leaped at Initiate with a forearm, Initiate brought his arm up to deliver an uppercut. He didn’t fully connect and the forearm sent him to the ground. He held the back of his head as he rose to one knee still bent over.

“High energy moves from Clayton! Chaos is going to force the Initiate to wrestle his type of match, and that’s the bottom line — because Chaos Clayton said so.”

“Like a boss.”

Clayton landed and turned around, looking over his shoulder at his handiwork. Clayton looked up at the roof of the building and chuckled as he threw his arms out, turning as he did it. After his maniacal laughter was over, Clayton grabbed the Initiate's head and pulled him up onto his feet, tossing him into the ropes with an irish whip. As the Initiate rebounded back towards Clayton, he leapt up and twisted his body round, jutting his arm out for a Corkscrew Elbow.

“Beautiful elbow right to the damn dome. Business is about to pick up!”

“Toldja, the Anarchist knows what he’s doing.” Kane wasn’t fully impressed. He wanted more blood. But he was sure they had tricks up their sleeves. He honestly couldn’t wait until the PPV. Shit would get real, real fast.

Initiate landed in a way to make it look like a hard landing. However, he quickly sat up arching his back and holding his hand there. Looking straight at Clayton he stood up and mocked him by gesturing him to bring it. Initiate ran to the ropes, bounced off in Clayton’s direction, and began spinning around to deliver a Cyclone Kill.

Clayton readied himself and caught the Initiates’ foot. The Anarchist shook his head as if to say “Oh no you don’t” before spinning the Initiate around and kicking him in the midriff before pushing him to the floor.

“Not today, Initiate. Today, Chaos Clayton says no and you sit your ass down and wait and see what happens! I love it! I love it!

“Is Clayton converting you, Wade? Are you actually down with disorder?”

“I’m down with this match that’s happening right here, right now.”

Clayton wasted no time and hopped up onto the turnbuckle, turning around before standing up and throwing his arms up high, hands turned into the Rocker signs before flying through the air for a Meteora aerial attack. Initiate stood up and turned to see Clayton flying at him. He didn’t have time to move or dodge and was hit by the attack. Clayton dropped beside the Initiate but rolled up onto his feet before moving over and pinning down Initiate, trying to secure the win, going as far as to push his hand down onto his opponent’s face, which in reality didn’t hurt thanks to Mathys’ mask.

“That’s gotta be the end of this! Clayton’s gonna advance!”

Initiate raised his legs in the air and swung them down to give him momentum to knock Clayton away just after the ref got to one. He quickly stumbled to his feet and stumbled back until he hit the ropes then ran forward at Clayton going for a running clothesline.

“KICK OUT! Maybe the Initiate has more in him than I thought he did.”

“Said NO ONE ever. COME ON, CLAYTON! What are you DOING?”

Clayton landed hard on his back as he collided with the Initiate’s clothesline. Clayton stood onto a knee, panting and recovering. Mathys grinned as he grabbed Clayton’s head and pulled him into a knee. He lifted Clayton to his feet and threw him towards the ropes. As he bounced back to where Initiate stood he grabbed him and spun around in a Spinning Side Slam. Initiate jumped to his feet and walked to the ropes screaming. The crowd joined in by chanting

”LET’S GET WEIRD! LET’S GET WEIRD! LET’S GET WEIRD!”


“You can say whatever you want about the strangeness of the Initiate — and it is there, but he certainly gets the crowd behind him.”

“By crowd, you mean the children.” Kane scoffed in annoyance.

Initiate fell backwards to the mat and imitated Clayton as he stood up. Once both were standing Initiate shifted into a mock runners starting position then ran towards Clayton trying for the Cyclone Kill again. Clayton just managed to duck under the kick and brought both of his fists up to unleash a combo of strikes. He began with a solid left jab followed by a swift kick to Initiate’s shin. Initiate staggered back after every strike and as soon as he was pressed against the ropes, Clayton grabbed his legs and flipped him over, sending The Initiate tumbling to the ramp.

“This time the Initiate fails to hit him with the kick! Clayton ducked under, let’s see if he can capitalize on that dodge!”

Initiate fell to the ground and landed on his back. He rolled over onto his front and slowly made his way to his feet. After stretching his back he turned back towards the ring. However, Clayton was already rebounding off of the ropes and propelled himself towards Initiate, Suicide Diving straight between the top and middle rope like a dart. Initiate angled himself to do a Snap Scoop Powerslam but missed the grab and went down to the ground with Clayton on top.

“TOPÉ SUICIDA!” “TOPÉ SUICIDA!”

“...Get out of my head, Wade!”

However, due to how the Initiate angled himself, Clayton didn’t land the Dive perfectly, and took the landing pretty hard at the same time. He rolled off of the Initiate and stared up in a dazed manner. The cameraman zoomed in on both of the downed wrestlers as the referee began to count them out, the crowd counting along with the official.

”1! 2! 3!”


“The ref’s count begins! If these two super stars don’t make it into the ring fast enough, then this match is over in the most dissatisfying way.”

Initiate slowly got up to his knee and from there used the apron to fully stand up. He walked over to Clayton and, grabbing him by the hair, lifted him up. He kneed him in the gut then turned around slinging him towards the barricade while the ref and crowd yelled,

”4! 5! 6!”


Clayton grunted as his back collided with the barricade, but as the Initiate closed in, he delivered a major kick to the Initiate’s stomach before quickly making his way back to the ring to beat the count out. However, he turned around and saw that the Initiate was still hot on his heels. Clayton sped up and leapt up onto the side of the ring.

“7! 8!”


However, instead of catching the ropes, Clayton kicked off from it and delivered a pitch perfect Disaster Kick straight to the Initiate’s head. Initiate fell straight to the ground. Mathys reached up and slid the mask a little in a way no one would see to make it look like the kick had connected hard.

“Maybe Clayton doesn’t care about this victory, about that title belt! He just wants to hurt his opponent here!”

”9!”


Clayton quickly turned on his heels and dove onto the apron, sliding himself securely back into the ring.

”10!”


“You were saying?” Kane gave his coworker, and friend, a smug look.

The referee rung the bell and the match was over. While some of the crowd cheered, another part booed due to the circumstance of the win. Clayton rolled back out as his music blared throughout the arena again, and he made his way back to the ramp. Before he walked up it, he looked back at the Initiate, then back to the group of his white masked fans before scoffing and exiting the arena.

“And just like that, Chaos Clayton moves to the semifinals! Maybe not the most satisfying victory… but a victory and an advance in the tournament, nonetheless.”
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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by tanderbolt
Raw
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tanderbolt Time is the substance I am made of

Member Seen 13 days ago

Collaboration with @Lovely Complex,@Silver Carrot&@Universorum

“For this match, we’re joined on commentary by the one and only, Oscar O’Sullivan himself. He has a particular interest in this match, as whichever competitor wins, he will face in the next round of the tournament. Who would you like to face of the two?”

”Well, Wade. I’ve done my research on both guys. I already know a lot about Savaka. I mean, he is the Intercontinental champion. He’s no slouch in the ring, but c’mon. He’s a peace-loving monk. And Ludwig von Moltbag? What was his name? Never heard of him before. Sounds like a clown with a name like that. I don’t think either really pose a threat to me, but who knows? I could be proven wrong tonight.”

“Don’t get cocky. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over my years calling matches — and I’ve got a few years under my belt — it’s that exactly what you don’t expect to happen… will. You’ll find yourself getting locked in one of Savaka’s holds before long, and then what? You tap.”

“What? That isn’t being cocky. That isn’t being over-confident. Ain’t nobody got time to think less of themselves. To be a star, you gotta’ believe you are one and Oscar sure as hell believes he’s one. The one and only.”

The jobber got the first entrance. Ludwig von Moltbaug was the wrestling persona of a local fixture of the indie scene, a heel complete with monocle, pocket watch, and gold and black trunks. The Praxeological Pugilist, the Arch Grappler of the Austrian School marched his way to the ring with an air dignity and derision for the common men of the arena’s audience, literally turning up his nose at the sight of them as his entrance music played. He stood there in the ring, playing up his mannerisms until his arrogance was practically seeping out of him.

”Jeez, Wade, look at this guy. Somebody call the circus. They’ve got an act missing!”

“Hey, he’s a competitor just like you.” In a surprising lack of professionalism from Wade, there were chuckles laced into what he was saying.

“Damn exhibitionists. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Ludwig von Moltbaug got some things up his sleeves, but I’m with Oscar on this one. The guy looks ridiculous.”

Savaka’s music kicked in with the sound of Sanskrit chants, and the fog machine induced cloud gave way to show him rising from his prostration at the top of the entrance ramp. He walked to the ring in a measured fashion, eyes closed and hands clasped together, the sign of someone at peace with the world. After both competitors were in the ring, the lights turned on to full brightness and the bell rung, signaling the start of the match.

“Here comes the champion. What an awesome run from him we’ve seen over the past few months. Savaka has a unique fighting style that is unlike any other, and he wows crowds everytime he comes out here, with his ability to grapple like no other can.”

”Was that a challenge? That sounded like a challenge.”

“Those were some fightin’ words! Wade doesn’t think you can get out of Savaka’s Tripitaka Lock, Oscar. You gonna’ let him believe that? You gonna’ let him underestimate your skills?” If there was one thing Kane had a natural talent for, it was egging people on and being a massive troll. But hey, at least he knew how to make the wrestlers look good. All in a day’s job.

”Let him believe what he wants to believe, Kane. Next round of the tournament, I will show him by example how easy it is for the One! And! Only! Oscar O’sullivan to slip out of a Tripitaka Lock!”

Savaka wore a bemused, calm expression on his face, keeping his eyes on Ludwig as both circled. Ludwig threw a wide punch and Savaka ducked it, the follow up also failed to land. Then he grabbed at Savaka’s robe, balling up a portion of fabric in his hand. Savaka grabbed Ludwig’s forearm behind the elbow, and pulled in. A simple wristlock ensued, forcing Ludwig’s palm to hyperextend, and causing him to wince in pain. Struggling got Ludwig a little more distance, but Savaka held onto the wrist and flexed it again, turning it into a different lock. Flipping and rolling around the ring looked impressive, but Savaka followed every move of Ludwig’s and kept the lock on, all showing no emotion. When Ludwig stopped to catch his breath, Savaka pulled the arm wide and snuck his foot behind Ludwig’s legs, then sent him down to the mat with a gentle push from his other hand.

”Nothing Ludwig von Moltborg is doing is working! He just cannot get out of that hold! I guess they didn’t teach him how to escape a wristlock at the nineteenth century steam train museum!

“I don’t think that’s the case — I think you, Mr. O’Sullivan, have been doing nothing but underestimating Savaka all night long. I think that Ludwig von Moltbaug, as it’s properly pronounced, is locked in holds by an expert grappler, and that he’s never faced someone who can lock it in quite like Savaka can. You can’t beat what you’ve never experienced before!”

“Are you insinuating that Oscar won’t be able to take him down? Both of them have been in the business for a long time. The golden rule of life is to never underestimate your rivals, but is it underestimating when you know who you are and what you’re capable of? Hell, Savaka probably doesn’t think Oscar has what it takes either.”

With Ludwig on the ground, Savaka wrenched the arm harder, using his legs and getting low. When Savaka got close, Ludwig saw an opportunity, and kicked him right in the forehead. Savaka staggered and held onto the arm, rolling back and turning it into an arm drag just as Ludwig was using the opportunity to stand up. While on his back, Savaka changed his grip and wrapped his legs on either side of the arm, setting up a cross armbreaker on Ludwig, who anticipated the move and rose to his feet, then pushed down to try and stop Savaka from extending the arm.

”Both men seem to be at an impasse. Savaka’s a fluid, scientific, precise grappler, no doubt about that, but look how he’s been stopped in his tracks from such a simple act of resistance from Ludvig Von Meatbag!”

“Let’s wait and see how this turns out, don’t count the AWE’s premiere submission specialist out quite yet!”

“Hah. Meatbag. I like that.”

”Thank you, Kane. Somebody here gets it.

For a brief moment, Ludwig leaned enough weight on Savaka to get both shoulders down and the referee started to count a pin. Not disturbed at all, Savaka simply pushed out and wove one of his legs around the arm, then sat up to break Ludwig’s posture down. One slight adjustment with his other leg and the Tripitaka Lock was complete, with Savaka sitting in his meditative posture until the quick tap from Ludwig let him know the match was over. He thanked the pouting Ludwig for the match, then did a slight bow before leaving the ring.

“And just like that, we have our final quarterfinals match on lockdown. Next week it’ll be Oscar O’Sullivan vs Savaka, and Gethin Rhys vs Owen Sparks. Still to come tonight: Thunderbird vs Zachary Wake and Chaos Clayton vs the Initiate. Stay tuned!”

“Oh!” Kane wiggled his pencil in between his fingers, before finishing the match with a sell, “If you’re currently subscribed to the AWE network, we’d like to get you and your friends involved in the heat. If you refer a friend to the AWE network, and sign up yourself, both of you will receive a twenty five dollar gift card to aweshop.com! Though, if I were you, I’d refer TEN friends. That’s 250 dollars worth of merch. Yeahhhh boi.”

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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Fabricant451
Raw
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Fabricant451 Queen of Hearts

Member Seen 4 hrs ago

a collab with @Bee

______________

There’s little in the way of fanfare as the pounding bass and hard hitting flow drones out, announcing the presence of someone who was clearly not one the gathered crowd was interested in seeing. Standing on the ramp, basked in the singular spotlight illuminating her, was a woman whose first identifiable feature was the crimson of her lips against the pale tone that was her skin. Her attire caught the light as well, making the all black outfit shine thanks to its sheen.

The black jacket with engraved white sleeves was hanging off her already, more for style than function, and her style was certainly on display; from the sleeveless top that rested above her navel, to the equally black pair of shorts that matched the near thigh-high boots; as far as attire went it was hardly conventional, but it was clear from the makeup and accessories that this was a woman who cared more about the style than the usability.

There was purpose in her stance, as she stood there in the spotlight listening to the thumping notes of her music. The thin fingers of her right hand were curled around a microphone and she lifted her left hand, closing it into a fist to kill the music. She had all the time in the world between here and the ring, and she was going to use every moment of it.

”I don’t know about you all but I’m bored. I’m bored of what passes for talent in the women’s locker room - though let’s not pretend the men are doing much better. How could I NOT be, with what slim pickings there are. Never in my life have I seen a larger gathering of basic bitches and fakers failing - or sleeping - their way upwards. And I come from Los Angeles, where every corner coffee shop or restaurant has ten women waiting for the casting call before deciding to take the backroom casting couch call. You all know the one.”

Death Adder was slowly making her way to the ring, having the audience’s attention if not their approval. It didn’t matter, she wasn’t here to garner applause.

”Of course we all know someone that’s very familiar with backroom couches. Honey, just because you’re a champion at throating doesn’t make you a champion of a division, title or not. When the boss of a company has his secretary take some dictation under a desk, she doesn’t get a promotion. Hell, she doesn’t even get respect. Calling yourself a queen doesn’t make it true, no matter how many metaphors or overpriced chairs you buy. People don’t boo you because they’re jealous or they’re haters, or whatever garbage you tell yourself to pretend it doesn’t bother you. They boo you because the most interesting thing about you is Drayden. The only thing you bring to the ring, queenie is something they can get better with a Google search, some privacy, and a box of Kleenex; and it’d be more stimulating and interesting than anything you’ve done in what you call your ‘career’.”

“But of course, one can’t talk about the wannabe queen without bringing up the other girl playing like this is high school politics and cliques all over again. For every preppy whore there’s the gothic creep that just discovered that ankhs and crosses go great with a helping of angst. The two of you can’t seem to co-exist, between the petty jabs of princess plastic and the poor-man’s bdsm styling of miss mixed metaphors. And you’d think they’d get along so well, what with them having so many things in common. Lack of talent, inability to enthrall, deep rooted daddy issues expressing themselves in different ways… Honey, no one’s afraid of you or your elementary use of mix-matched imagery. Here’s an idea. Go hook up with the rest of your little wiccan friends and conjure up an original personality. At least your dad had the good sense to rip off Jason Voorhes - people actually liked those movies.”


Though she was now circling the ring, Death Adder was not done. There were more than just two of the easiest targets possible. Who hadn’t had a go at the top slags of the company?

”Of course, I mentioned that I was bored of the division and nowhere is that more obvious than the personification of boredom that is miss can’t choose a career path. What, was the military too normal for you? Was it too hard to get beaten senseless by people who actually care enough to do something they believe in? How long is it going to take before you decide that the AWE isn’t for you? As soon as you start to lose over and over again? I thought the military was supposed to instill discipline and responsibility, yet did I not hear you go on and blame Jennifer’s Frumpy Body for you losing to a damn mute and Sailor Moon. The big strong soldier can’t fight her own battles. Boo hoo. I give it six months and continued losses before you move on to something else you can get bored of because of a lack of competence. You don’t care about this place, G.I. Jane. So do us all a favor and muscle your way out of here.”

“Oh, I’m not done. Not at all. Because for as utterly devoid of originality that the terrible trio might be, at least they do something, which is more than I can say for the god damn kindergarten class that exists back there. I thought this was a wrestling company, not AnimeCon with special guest literally who and the cosplayer with an alias about as decent as Hot Topic’s dye job. I’m sure hurricane otaku and still illegal in all fifty states fox-girl will do something to make us all collectively snore as soon as they’re done gushing over their magical girl collection. I wasn’t aware we were in a constant state of bring your child to work day.”

“But then how else am I supposed to account for nepotism given flesh and named after the ugly girl from The Matrix. I’m sure you’re doing your family proud, dear, you’re about as mediocre as the lot of them; doing the family name proud, you are. Given your sister’s lack of charisma during interviews maybe you’re the one that got the spurt of talent from your parents. Because one of you has to live up to the legacy of being absolutely forgetful, right?”


Having made her way through the roster in various forms, Adder finally took a moment to pause and take in the negative response to her string of insults. And yet she still lifted the mic to her lips once more, complete with a lethal smirk.

”And because I have each and every one of you fraudulent, boring, basic bitches pegged, I know that none of you are going to do anything about it. Barbie can’t even jump without Ken around to catch her, Morgana’s too busy taking notes on horror movies to rip off - when she should be taking notes on how to call bitches out from yours truly, but then she’d be made even MORE unoriginal. Sydney can’t find the time between lifting a dumbbell and flipping through a job booklet and the others? They’ve got homework and a curfew to worry about. But all of them, every single one - even the weird mute - would all say the exact same thing in response to my words here. Some junk about me being jealous, or a hater, or how it doesn’t bother them, the same exact spiel they spout night after night like the broken records that is their entire careers.”

“Which is why I’m putting the entire division on blast right here and right now. Show me that there’s more to any of you than your sub-par looks and your below-par personalities. But of course you won’t. None of you will. Because, like I said at the start, you’re all so utterly boring. Prove me wrong.”


With her statement of intent clear, the venomous Death Adder dropped her jacket as well as the microphone, widening her smirk and watching the ramp for anyone. The entire division was on her notice now, it was only a matter of time before they all felt the sting.

After hearing the challenge from Death Adder, Tsunami felt her blood boil after what witnessing what she had done to her allies. No one runs in on her allies like that without getting a piece of what Tsunami did best. She stood up from her seat on the couch and made her way to the main stage. She was seeing red and quite honestly wanted to beat the living shit out of Death Adder.

Walking up to the curtain, she put her hands on her hips and waited for her music to start playing. Standing there, looking down and swaying idly, she finally heard that sweet, sweet guitar riff and dashed outside. She still had to give the crowd a show, though. Tsunami came out, her arms raised and getting the crowd amped up as she went over to the side and gave a couple of people high fives, before going to the other side and doing the same to another few lucky fans.

With her entrance ritual finally over with, Tsunami stared down Death Adder wherever she was and made her way there, knowing that all she wanted to do was to get redemption for her friends.

For a moment, however brief, there was a smile on the Adder’s crimson lips. Of all the women backstage, of all the little wannabes and try-hards this was who answered the call? Under normal circumstances Adder might even have given Tsunami the smallest of props for having the fortitude and bravery to answer the challenge. It took some sort of moxie to essentially sign one’s own death warrant. Death Adder’s smirk dropped almost as soon as her fake clapping had. There was no time to waste on words or remarks; this was a statement, after all. And when one made a statement of intent, one didn’t have the luxury of wasting time.

As the stare-off, such as it was, ended, it was the venomous snake that pounced first, practically bounding forward to chop at Tsunami hard, swift, and fierce. There would be nothing pretty about this fight if Adder had her way. As far as the snake was concerned, the other woman was merely a rat wandering too close to a hunger predator.

Death Adder lunged forward at Tsunami, tying them up into a single collar tie. She tried shifting her weight to the right side to try to get her opponent off balance. Throwing a few uppercuts from the clinch she pulled Death Adder’s arm as if she was trying to drag it down. However, she instead transitioned into a hammerlock in the standing position. Pushing forward a bit, she let go with one arm to grasp around the hip, before letting go of the grip and wrapping her arms around Death Adder’s hip.

Twisting upwards, Tsunami arced her back into a German Suplex. Just as she was about to hit the apex, she released Death Adder from her grip at the appropriate time so that she would go flying. Landing on her belly, Tsunami was quick to get up and go to the ropes. She bounded off of them, dashing towards Death Adder so that she could drop her with an elbow, hopefully.

Adder was on her back with a hard landing, only adding fuel to the fire that was slowly rising in her soul. She didn’t wait around for the follow-up elbow, spotting it coming and rolling onto her stomach in time to avoid the impact. Pressing her palms to the mat, she hoisted herself back up and kept her gaze ever locked on Tsunami. An inch couldn’t be given, nor would she give it. Still, she waited until Tsunami was getting up, only to pounce forward again - this time with a knee aimed squarely at the other competitor’s head.

Death Adder wanted Tsunami on the mat, down on the ground where she belonged.

As Tsunami went for the elbow, she failed to realize that Death Adder had rolled away before it was too late, and she landed on the mat hard. She recoiled in pain and groaned, grabbing her elbow before eyeing Death Adder.

She posted up with both hands, not even having time to get herself situated before her opponent came at her like a cobra. And then came the knee. The knee hit Tsunami and she fell backwards, lying on her back and breathing hard as she was trying to recover quick enough. But the knee had caught her off guard and she was stuck recovering from the attack.

There was no point in celebrating a hit, not when it meant it was time to follow it up. No grandstanding. No taunting. Just precision. Adder stood over Tsunami, her lips twisted in a foul grin, standing out amidst the pale complexion of her skin, like a hawk circling its prey. The serpent in the grass lifted a foot to stomp at Tsunami’s arm. What better way to make an example than by crippling such necessary tools.

As she stomped, Death Adder felt a unique sort of glee, and she wore it on her face like a badge of honor. The stomps were quick. At the moment, it was all she was focusing on. The feeling of stomping a limb beneath her boot. It took the referee stepping in and forcing Adder to stop before she backed up, still smirking, still leering towards Tsunami, daring the girl to swing back.

Watching Death Adder circle around her did not bode well for Tsunami. She was helpless at this moment, and there were a variety of things she could do to take advantage of the momentum she had just received. It could’ve ranged from a dropkick to a full press. She looked at Death Adder, but refused to show any fear knowing that it was what Death Adder wanted.

Feeling her get closer and her shadow looming over her, Tsunami didn’t know what to expect next. Then came the stomp, the loud crashing of boot to her arm. Tsunami recoiled and grabbed her arm in pain, groaning loudly going into a fetal position of sorts as she clutched her arm. Taking the pain, she rolled to a turtle position, before getting up. She was breathing hard, building up energy for her next bout of offense.

She lunged toward Death Adder with an elbow, using the arm that her opponent had stepped on earlier. Tsunami then quickly followed up with a roundhouse kick to the abdomen, before tying Death Adder up into a single collar tie yet again.

So there was still fight to be had in Tsunami - admirable, but ultimately pointless as far as the Adder was concerned. The scared mouse could take swipes but in the end it would still succumb. Adder reeled back when the elbow collided with her, then doubled over in response to the roundhouse. Exquisite. The spark of a fight, however fleeting, made all the difference in these situations. It would’ve been boring otherwise.

But the mistake was in bringing Adder so close. Though they were locked in a tie, Adder was still smiling, damn near laughing, the way one does when they know they have the upper hand. It happened suddenly, and just out of the eyeshot of the referee. When the collar tie was locked in, Death Adder delivered a shot of Venom. Quick and purple, just enough to be aggravating. Never corner a venomous snake.

The laughing from Death Adder was ominous, giving Tsunami a sinking feeling in her stomach before all she could see was purple. She let go of the tie and covered her eyes, selling it by groaning in pain and trying to get the furthest from Death Adder as she could. She still couldn’t see, and eventually she found herself on the ropes. Death Adder was definitely like a Cobra, but Tsunami was the Mongoose to the Cobra.

She glanced at Death Adder, her vision still slightly unclear from the venom attack from earlier. She rolled out of the mat and onto the floor, trying to take things out of the ring.

Running away or a tactical retreat? It didn’t matter where Tsunami went, Death was sure to follow. After taking a moment to admire the way in which Tsunami was clearly in pain, clearly feeling the effects of the Venom, Death Adder followed along, stepping through the ropes and outside of the ring in hot pursuit. Out here, the rules were different as far as Adder was concerned. She could hear the disapproval of the rubes in the audience and that only made her more eager to kill this inferior specimen.

Death Adder came up behind Tsunami, grabbing her by the neck with a loud, sinister laugh. There was no elegance or technical skill behind the hold, just a raw, brutal sort of application, and her intent was clear from the jump. Adder had every intention of using this leverage to throw Tsunami into the security barricade. Out here, this was no longer a match. It was, in the eyes of the Adder, lawless. This was a brawl now.

Landing against the security barrier, Tsunami recoiled in pain once again as she bounced back onto the floor. She lied on her belly, putting her arm up and trying desperately to get herself back up, but she couldn’t. Tsunami was stunned from the impact. She glanced up at Death Adder. She was strong for sure. But, Tsunami had been through worse. She figured that she had to change up the strategy in order to break through Death Adder’s overwhelming confidence.

Tsunami slowly mustered up strength to get back up, the crowd’s energy surging as she got back up. Breathing heavily, she summoned the energy to start sprinting. The wrestler put her leg on Death Adder’s leg, before going for the enzuigiri. If it worked, Tsunami had every intention in the world to try to pull off a gutbuster on Death Adder and reciprocate the damage and pain that she had inflicted on her.

After Tsunami hit the barrier, Adder was widening her grin. The way the body bounced and fell...the subtle sounds as the plucky little prey hit the ground...it was sweeter than any symphony. In the eyes of the predatory Death Adder, the sight of a loved member of the roster on the ground in pain was a victory in and of itself. She was reveling in the sounds of disapproval. She was taking pride in her handiwork. And she was savoring the moment before going in for the kill.

But the moment to bask in her brief success was met only with a kick to the head. The brief moment of pause was enough for the fight or flight instincts in the little mouse to kick in, and presently the switch was flipped to fight. In an instant, the predator was doubled over and then being dropped in kind, now on the floor in a bursting sting of pain. She could hear the swinging change to the crowd, happy that the hunter was being shown the floor. It wouldn’t end like that. Tsunami might have fought back and taken the advantage but in the process she made one major mistake.

She made Death Adder angry.

No more admiration. No more pausing to appreciate the aesthetics of a beaten idol. The Adder would slowly rise to one knee, eyes glaring towards Tsunami, and like a snake coiled and ready, she would make a move to strike, To pounce and to simply do whatever it took to strike at and drop this little upstart.

Abandoning the plan to hit a gutbuster, Tsunami backed up and gave Death Adder some space, after learning her lesson with the sudden venom attack. She took a deep breath, watching her and studying whatever she was doing. Watching her pounce, Tsunami failed to react accordingly and was hit by Death Adder’s burst of offense.

Tsunami stumbled back a bit, trying to make sure that she didn’t outright lose her balance. This had turned into a brawl, and Tsunami was more than willing to bring it to Death Adder. The distance between them was closed, coming in with a superman punch and then following with a rolling savate to the body. Backing away Tsunami was trying to figure out what else she could do to Death Adder, weary of the many tricks she had up her sleeves.

Whatever tricks were in the Adder’s bag remained tucked inside - ever since leaving the safety of the ring all pretense of elegance or by-the-books encounters were tossed aside. After being hit back with a hard punch and a kick, Adder only glared towards Tsunami - after gritting her teeth and grunting once the blows had subsided. One good turn deserved another and the space between them was again diminished as this time it was the coiled strike of the serpent taking her chance.

Like a sudden sting, so too did Adder jump forth - partially out of desperation - to use her momentum to bring Tsunami to the ground just to start giving mounted punches to the spry woman’s face. Adder’s brow was furrowed and her gaze murderous. Whatever it took to mop up Tsunami, Death Adder was going to find it. Or die trying.

Taken back by Adder’s takedown, she was helpless on her back. She tried to wiggle her way out of the position but she couldn't. This position usually meant she was going to be in some pain very, very soon. There was too much that she could do from this position.

Putting her arms up, she shielded herself from the onslaught of punches. Some went through some were blocked. Tsunami was now put into a position where she had to be more and more desperate. She put her arm on Adder’s abdomen, trying to get her to stand straight up so Tsunami could wiggle her way out. But just as she tried to do so, the bell rang and the referee was waving his hands as if the match was over. Tsunami was confused, but then she realized where she was and sighed in disappointment.

They had both counted themselves out, and neither had won the match.

Even after the bell sounded and the double count-out was ruled, Adder was smirking. To her it wasn’t about winning or losing, it had all been about making a statement. Her final message was a final, definitive punch before standing up to the chorus of boos. She looked over her handiwork, the young Tsunami on the ground, and again Death Adder grinned like a sinister villain. Her grin never faded, even as she walked her way back up the ramp.

Her job was done for the night.
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Hey Im Jordan
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Hey Im Jordan Surpass Your Limits!

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Shock N AWE, Sacramento. After Segment 3, during Match 5...
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Collab with @Lovely Complex
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Following his sister, in a fast paced manner (she was booking it hella’ fast), who wasn’t heading back inside, unusual for Joy, Chance patiently asked, “Where you going? The main event is ‘bout to start.” Stressing his concern with his mellow toned voice, Chance kept his camera on his shoulder, never taking his eyes off her. He didn’t need his twin sense to know she was upset. Her actions spoke loudly, and only an idiot would fail to notice that Joy wasn’t her usual chipper self. Also, she always watched the entire show, but now she was heading outside. For what? He didn’t know.

Once she reached the exit door, Joy turned to look at her twin and gave a faux smile, “I just need some air!” She shooed him away. “And you need to go to your next position. I’ll be back inside for Aftershock. I promise.”

Scrunching his nose, he met his chocolate gaze with her ever-changing blue eyes. They stared at each other for a moment and then it finally clicked.

Ah.

Giving her a nod, he smiled at his soft-hearted, other half, “Don’t be gone for too long, people will start thinking something is up.” Turning around to head inside, he left her with a compliment, “You’re a big part of AWE. Just like ma.” Without Joy, Chance was sure more than enough people would feel a piece was missing. She made tremendous strides and was well loved. Without a doubt, she was their mother’s daughter. The sound of the exit door could be heard and the filmmaker knew his sister was gone, at least for a little while.

Making sure she was not in an area with many others, especially fans, Joy aimlessly walked in a direction that led to a deserted bench, hidden by trees and the dark blanket that was the night sky. Surprisingly close to the arena, but luckily for her, the main event was happening, so the possibility of someone bumping into her was unlikely. Hopefully. Taking a seat, she glanced down at her lap and watched her thumbs fiddle with each other, in silence.

It was nice out...

In less than fifteen minutes, the game of cat and mouse that Joy Ryder and Caiden Everett had been playing the last few weeks shifted. No longer the hunted, Caiden had become the hunter. Luckily for Caiden, he had a secret weapon known as Chance, who guided him and told him the door that Joy had slipped out of. And so, he sniffed her out, wandering until he saw her off in the distance — escape was merely a dream.

He approached the bench wordlessly and didn’t talk as he sat down beside her, choosing instead to stare at the stars as he considered what he wanted to say. “I’m sorry I called you an idiot, that was uncalled for.” And kinda made him look… super dickish. Whoops.

Why was Caiden here? Joy didn’t want him out of everyone that could possibly come and check on her to check on her. He was apologizing? Slightly turning her head to look at him observing the sky, Joy shook her head in disagreement, “No need to be sorry! You were acting. It’s part of the job.” Her face might have been painted with a smile, but her eyes were enough to show that to a degree, she did think she was kind of stupid and to a degree, she was hurt. However, Joy wasn’t a broken record, but... she still was a woman, who lived a life that gave her insecurities, fears, and obstacles that to this day she still needed to work on. For the most part, though, she was happy.

Just not right now.

Women were a tough beast to handle, that much he knew for sure. Despite not having too many long lasting relationships in his career (Caiden Winters considered himself married to the job), he’d interact with them enough to know that a smile only meant they were really upset, not just kind of upset. What did women like? What could he do to repair this? He felt bad! She was Blake’s sister. It was hard to make friends in this line of work, people were always backstabbing each other and being cunts backstage in order to advance, and the friends that you could lock yourself down with, the friends you could trust and care about and love were rare. Few and far between. Blake was his BFFFL, even if that was a high school girl kinda thing. And he couldn’t just leave his best friend’s younger sister all upset!

So what was the answer?! Caiden searched his mind over and over again for something that was failsafe, something that would cheer up any woman, no matter how tragically upset she was. Something that would replace the criminally fake smile with one that was true and genuine. Something that turned Joy’s face back into the one that he wanted to kiss and love…

Wait, what?

Caiden visibly shook himself to banish those thoughts from his head and with that motion, he had his plan. “Let me buy you ice cream after the show. I think there’s a Coldstone Creamery nearby, so we can go there. Okay?” Women loved ice cream, dude. Failsafe.

Ice cream? Caiden wanted to take her out for ice cream? Stunned at the offer, the high school girl crush that she had for him came back, full throttle. This took an unexpected turn, and yet, like a true on-screen professional, she refused to let her internal feelings take surface. She would not blush. Her mind continuously told herself ‘do NOT blush’ and Joy would make damn sure it wouldn’t happen. That being said, her posture straightened and her face did lighten up - so was blushing necessary? “Are you sure? I could pay for my own.”

“Yes, I’m sure. My treat, really not a big deal. Let me buy you ice cream. I’ll drive, too, so you can just ride with me to the hotel room. I assume you’re staying at the same one I am. Again. For no apparent reason.” Though Caiden wouldn’t know it himself, there certainly was a reason for Joy always ending up in his hotel. Two reasons, actually. One really liked donuts, and one was a nerd. Luckily for our donut loving, and nerdy heroes, Caiden Everett would never know the truth. “I can walk you back inside now if you want. Don’t want you to miss Aftershock. Then they’d be fucked.”

She totally forgot! Joy hopped off the bench, checking the time off her wrist watch, “Yeah… the night isn’t over yet.” Glancing up from her watch to his face, she cheerfully (and genuinely) gleamed, “That all sounds wonderful, Caiden… would you?” She paused, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, before continuing, “Walk me?” Hey, he offered - she had to make sure. If she downright pinched herself to feel how real this all was she’d be far too obvious.

“...I just said…” Caiden paused slightly, looking down at her. Women were confusing sometimes… Caiden cleared his throat slightly, before nodding. “Of course I will. Come on, let’s go.” He put his arm around her shoulder, and off they went, toward the job that they both poured their heart and soul into. Trying her best to hide her face with her hair, Joy’s cheeks grew hot when he wrapped his arm around her…

A date.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by LovelyComplex
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The night of Shock N AWE Sacramento...

Collab with @GingerBoi123








It was a nice evening at the hotel. A welcome break from the show, accompanied by movies and all the perks room service came with. In fact, Michael had to do a double take with all the plates and boxes littered about the luxury room. He rubbed the back of his neck, already exhausted from the thought of working it all off. Whatever. Michael knew him and Ari had worked hard to get where they were. They deserved it. Speaking of which, Michael turned to the balcony, walking up to the doorframe and leaning against it. Michael smiled as he took in the sight of his Queen, on and off stage, sitting on the balcony, the view of the moon glaring onto her like a radiant angel of the twilight. Ariel seemed to be thinking about something. The night always seemed to comfort her and let her thoughts flow. It was cute.

“What you thinking about, darlin’?” Michael asked in his thick accent, forgetting that people might be able to see him in just his sweatpants.

Ariel Flannagan, Mrs. Flannagan, on stage known as Ari Slayer, hugged her right leg, as she sat on the balcony of her and her husband’s hotel room in Sacramento. Low acoustic music (Everlong by Foo Fighters) played out of her phone, while she traveled the depths of her mind, her mindscape, a wandering haven for endless thoughts that only mattered to her really and maybe her husband.

She didn’t talk often about the other half of her that wasn’t just wrestling. While her sister modeled on the side, Ariel wrote screenplays and made short animations (yes, she owned a graphic tablet). Wrestling was her life, but it wasn’t all that she could do. If there was one thing the dark beauty needed to do, it was keep herself busy or she’d feel inclined to go back to bad habits like drinking in abundance and snorting coke. With an addictive personality, focusing on the things that keep her going, which would be wrestling and animation, Ariel is able to avoid thinking about anything in regards to her past and how much she and Alice had to work to get where they were today. Her instagram is filled with cute comics and short clips of the world of AWE, which actually added to her growing popularity since no one took notice of her until she had the ‘Queen of the Rebels’ reputation going for her.

Her laptop was closed and there was no food on her plates, since she ate everything she brought out with her and some. If there was one thing her and Michael had in common, it was their appetite. They ate a lot and still weren’t as large as their coworkers. A curse or a blessing. For her, at least, she wasn’t always fortunate to have food on her plate, not because her parents couldn’t afford it, but because as a form of punishment, they intentionally starved her and her sister. Their disciplinary methods were harsh, which is probably why her and Alice went to the extent to never be home and eventually live with their aunt. Alice had it easier because their parents forgave her, more so than they forgave Ariel. Partially because she was the baby and partially because Alice knew how to manipulate them and get their eyes to look elsewhere. So long as their baby kept busy, doing gymnastics and acting, what could possibly go wrong?

But, Ariel’s personal life up until marrying Michael was a bag of worms that is now in the past. Not worth revisiting. Not worth talking about. Not worth her time. She was doing well and that was all because she worked her ass off. She was honestly surprised when someone came to her from AWE and wanted to recruit her. Told her to try out for the AWE Performance Center, purely based on her Parkour and Freerunning videos with some of her friends. She had most of what it took to be an AWE superstar. Athleticism. Determination. Coachability. Professionalism (even though sometimes she did break out in frustration, they did take that passion and told her to utilize it in the ring). But what she strongly lacked, which she somehow obtained when she got heavily involved with Michael was she lacked the ‘IT’ factor. Also known as charisma that separated her from the rest of the roster. She still isn’t top of the charts charismatic and doesn’t have that innate ability like her sister, but she’s making waves and that’s not something she could’ve said when she started off.

Ariel is nowhere near Morgana and Barbie level of stardom, but she does think she’s getting there, just more blood, sweat, and tears then she’ll be there. For the meantime, she had something entirely unrelated to any of this on her mind. Her brother-in-law, Benjamin Kennedy, who has a new act (coming soon!), and his Harley Quinn-esque valet, her sister, Alice, would debut within the next couple of months, but she wasn’t necessarily sure when. But both of them were traveling with the team, so it was bound to happen soon, she’d like to think. As the sister of a lovable Alice, Ariel needed to do something for them. Hopefully, she would find out the exact day they were debuting because planning would go a lot smoother if she knew exactly when.

Maybe she should talk to one of the writers…

Regardless, Alice never fails to do something for her, or her husband, whether it’s their birthdays or a random day of the week, her sister could make anyone feel loved by doing little things to show that she loved them. Gifts upon gifts or hangouts that kept the family close. “We should do something for them.” Ariel softly responded to her husband, still looking up at the night sky. “So far I’m thinking a drunk night out, but maybe that’s not sentimental enough…”

No one could deny the hard work that his wife put in over the years. Michael remembered every night he had to console Ari from her frustrations from the performance centre. Truly, her passion took charge many times but she always bounced back. Now Ariel was finally getting the recognition she deserved. Her hard work was beginning to pay off, and Michael was enthralled every time he could watch the woman of his desires perform, even more so when they performed together.

Not to say, there weren’t some rough periods in their relationship. Life’s not one straight road, and anyone who doesn’t expect twists and turns are considered foolish to Michael. A rough treatment from childhood led Ariel to develop some bad habits during the start of her adult life. Michael would never think about what life would be like for his wife if she had continued to abuse substances. However, deep conversations, a bit of TLC, and perhaps an argument or two along the way, Ariel managed to pull through, stronger than ever. At least, Michael likes to think so. Even if other people didn’t know Ari’s past, her success started to show. Michael knew that she was destined for more, and would work every moment to share the spotlight.

Michael scratched the back of his head in thought. His wife was right. Alice and Benjamin deserved some form of a treat to celebrate their debut. They also had been working hard, while Alice had natural talent in the role of a valet, Ben finally hit his stride in developmental and the lead team were ready to release the monster that would be “Mordecai”. Of course, this had to be celebrated. Although, Michael couldn’t help but tread cautiously around the situation, especially when Ariel mentioned alcohol. Not that it’s a bad thing, in moderation. Ari had been doing so well, he’d hate to see her streak end like that. "Perhaps. What about a chilled evening at their favorite spot? A restaurant perhaps? Could be a fun double date.” Michael offered, pulling up a seat next to his wife.

“The only problem with that is… I need to figure out when they are debuting exactly because who knows where we will be. My guesses? Hm, Requiem in October, which is in London. Alice is a bit scattered brain, so she hasn’t been really helpful. Or, which this is extremely likely, she doesn’t know herself. I do want to get her a gift card to a spa, which I’m sure Ben wouldn’t mind a professional massage and saunas galore. It’ll be good for their bodies. But I also like your idea too, so we could do both… but your idea might be where we wing it. Or, we hunt a writer down and find out more details.” Ariel was in thinking mode, which meant she said a thousand things in the course of seconds. Not known for being lucrative, but when she did talk more than usual, she talked extremely fast and sometimes, it was hard to keep up with her, if you weren’t use to it, “Add a gift basket with some champagne and lingerie, sounds like fun times to be had.”

Michael nodded. "Well, unless you’re modelling, you can take the lingerie job.” He joked with a smile and a wink. It would be a bit weird for a married guy to pick out lingerie for his wife’s sister. Okay, it would be very weird. ”Why don’t we make a day out of it? Start with the spa treat, probably drag Ben if we have to.” Michael began, knowing how unsocial Ben can be sometimes. "Then when we find out when and where, we’ll search up restaurants in the area. What kind of food should we go for?” Michael asked, thinking the compromise would be a good day out, whatever city or country they’re in.

Letting out a gentle chuckle, Ariel rolled her eyes at her lover before responding, “Ben’s on a strict diet, now that I think about it. The only time he really breaks it, it’s to eat hot Cheetos. Maybe scratch the food thing, and just have an entire day at a spa. You’d be surprised with how much you can do there, that’s where Alice took me for my bachelorette weekend getaway. Completely disconnected from the outside world, walking around with a bathrobe, being pampered and indulging in nothing but relaxation. There’s whirlpools, mist rooms, saunas. The saunas aren’t even just hot. There’s one sauna, which was personally my favorite, called ‘Iceland’. After sweating in a hot sauna, you can go there to cool off. It’s great. The walls were like an igloo. Ice everywhere but the floor and your bench. Also, the restaurants there are pretty par, so when we are hungry we will have options. I like this plan!”

Michael looked at the plate on the table then back into their hotel room. "The fuck’s a diet?” Michael mumbled, joking about again. It was strange the stark comparison between Michael Flanagan and Ajax Flanagan. Michael listened intently to Ari’s story about her bachelorette weekend at the Iceland spa. It sounded pretty relaxing, but there was one thing that bothered him. "Babe? Am I really gonna plant my bare arse on a block of ice?” He asked, tongue in cheek. His spine shivered at the thought.

“No, no sweetie. That’s just a sauna. Not the entire spa. Like a lot of the amenities at a spa makes you sweat, but this room is suppose to be refreshing. It really is. You aren’t actually sitting on ice. The temperatures are a bit lower than the other rooms that give you dry or wet heat sessions… does that make sense?” He’d understand when he was there. Ariel’s stomach growled. Bringing her leg down, she rested her hands on her stomach, “You know what would be amazing right now, cheesecake.” She looked at her husband and gave him a childlike grin, adding a wink for extra measure.

A look of sudden realisation swept across his face when he was told there wasn’t blocks of ice around every corner. "Ohhhhhhh…” He exhaled. Michael took the view in one more time before his wife decided she needed even MORE food! There were only two things Michael wondered about Ariel. Her stunning beauty and how the hell she can eat so much. Like, where does it go? He rolled his eyes and looked back at the mountain of dishes. In for a dime, in for a dollar. "If I can find the phone…”

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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by ZeusTheMoose
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Segment 2: Sexton P.S. Love Post-Match Promo



Like a piece of plywood, Thunderbird got screwed. Zachary Wake was advancing in the tournament.

Sexton Love climbed back into the ring, the same steel chair in his hands and the same Lakers jersey on his back. The jersey was simulataneously a cheap shot at the Sacramento fans, while at the same time a complete contradiction to Sexton's promo last week in L.A. He didn't plan to mention anything about the jersey, but it's presence just added that nice little extra layer of "fuck you" that the Love Doctor was looking for. But by the time the night was over, he was going to be a "fuck you" tiramisu.

CRACK!

The Lovely One lined up Thunderbird again, tattooing his forehead with a vile chairshot. He turned and started aggressively yelling at the fans, chair still in hand, while the Bird lay face down on the mat. As the proud warrior attempted to somehow push himself up off the canvas it was obvious he was busted open, a long cut at the top of his hairline, just above the mask. Blood was dripping down on the mat as Thunderbird tried to stand. Sexton wheeled around immediately brought the chair crashing down again.

SMACK!

The King of the Road threw down the chair, as the King of the Sky lay motionless from the attack. Sexton climbed on top of his adversary and began raining down short, piston-like punches as the boos from the crowd grew louder and louder. The gash on Thunderbird's head was a bullseye, and the Sexcellence of Sexecution was determined to hit his mark. Blood continued to pour from the wound, running down Thunderbird's mask to his chest. His hair was soaked in crimson red as Sexton finally relented his barrage of blows.

"Gimme a fuckin' mic!" said Sexton, hoping this would not become a trademark phrase. He ripped the microphone from the announcer's hand at ringside, and rolled back into the ring.

"I TOLD YA DADDEH!" yelled Sexton, pausing for a moment as the crowd voiced their displeasure. "I told ya that I needed the gold. I told ya that I NEEDED the World's Heavyweight Title!"

"Boooooooooo!"

He kicked Thunderbird in the head again as the Bird began to sitr.

"I am the Sexcellence of Sexecution!"

Kick.

"The King of the Ring--"

Kick.

"And the KING OF THE ROAD!"

Kick.

"The Sexiest There Is! Sexiest There Was! And SEXIEST THERE EVER WILL BE!"

Kick. Kick. Kick.

At this point the blood was really flowing, and Thunderbird's entire chest was drenched. He looked like he had undergone some sort of bizarre baptismal ritual. Sexton couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. The Bird's outfit wasn't doing him any favors either.

"...But you STOLE it from me darlin'. You stole the World's Heavyweight Championship belt when you stole that match last week. You're a THIEF daddeh, and I can't let that crime go unpunished. No, no, no. NO WAY darlin'."

Sexton paused for a moment, relishing in the heat of the moment.

"I'm the PIPER WITH THE PIPE..." said Sexton, pointing to his crotch. "...And EVERYBODY PAYS."

"Booooooooo! Fuck you Sexton! Get the fuck outta here!"

"...I'm the man with the plan, the man with the POWER, too sweet to be sour, too hot to handle, and too COLD TO HOLD. I am the judge... jury... and SEXECUTIONER!"

In truth, Sexton didn't expect Thunderbird to be bleeding so badly, but there wasn't much that could be done about it now. Besides, it had given him an idea. A pretty messed up idea.

He walked over to the corner and picked up Thunderbird's Native American headdress. Last week, he had tore up one of the Bird's headdresses in their match, to great effect, and he had something similar in mind for tonight.

"Birdy baby, I bet you thought when you stole that match last week, you were heading UP in the world. I bet you thought you were FLYIN' straight to the top darlin'. Straight to the Tournament Finals, and straight to the World's Heavyweight Title..."

He tore off a single feather from the headdress, and threw it down on Thunderbird's limp and lifeless body.

"Well daddeh I just clipped you're wings and brought you crashing down to Earth... And mark my words, when it's all said and done, I will put you SIX FEET UNDER!"

Again Sexton tore at Thunderbird's ceremonial garb, ripping off more feathers and throwing them down as his adversary, repeatedly kicking Thunderbird's carcas as he did so. Some fans in the crowd had stopped their relentless booing and jeering, and as the camera panned around the arena they could be seen with their hands over their mouths, looking on almost in shock at what was transpiring. Sexton Love was known for his over-the-top gimmick and promo style, but fans had seemingly forgotten just how vicious he could be. The level of violence and disrespect being shown towards Thunderbird, a legitimate hero as far as professional wrestlers were concerned, served as a reminder.

"I am a man's man and a ladies' man...but make no mistake about it, I'm a BAD MAN darlin'. A bad, bad man. And after I'm done with you, after your price has been paid, I'm taking the World's Heavyweight Title. Because SEX....... SELLS!"

The Man They Call Love stood tall over The Man They Call Bird, as the torn up feathers from Thunderbird's head dress were now stuck to the blood all over his body. Blood that had been spilled by Sexton P.S. Love.

Thunderbird had been tarred and feathered, with his own blood as the tar.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by LovelyComplex
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|| PLACEHOLDER || AFTERSHOCK with Wade Palmer and Joy Ryder, featuring Thunderbird
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by ZeusTheMoose
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ZeusTheMoose

Member Seen 2 mos ago

Segment 1: Sexton P.S. Love In-Ring Promo



Sexton Love's music hit, but it was impossible to tell. The sound was completely overpowered by the thunderous chorus of boos eminating from the San Jose crowd. Sexton was still backstage in the gorilla position, and despite receiving the producer's go signal he took some time before making his entrance. It was all about about milking the crowd response. Although he might've phrased the analogy in slightly different terms.

"You gotta stroke it daddeh," said the Lovely One, finally stepping through the curtain.

There it was.

The noise in the arena multiplied upon Sexton's appearance, and continued to grow as he arrogantly sauntered down to the ring. Feeling as though the heat-seeking sports jerseys had run their course over the last couple of weeks, Tyrannosaurus Sex had instead settled on wearing his electrifying new "$EX SELL$" gimmick tee-shirt. Naturally the sleeves had been cut off. Bicep flexing was cruical.

"You see that daddeh?" yelled Bodzilla, directly into the camera. "I am the man with the largest arm. The man that causes harm. The real deal, sex appeal, man of STEEL..."

For a long time, Sexton had been fundamentally against the idea of selling merchandise as a heel. That was until he had received his first royalty cheque in the mail. Somehow money had made things slightly more palletable. It was a business after all.

"SEX SELLS darlin'..." he said, pointing at the slogan across the front of his shirt. "...nobody does it better..."

As the Love Doctor climbed into the ring, the camera panned around and was able to get a shot of his back. Written across the flip side of the shirt were the words "Gimme the f#%kin' mic!", and the ring announcer complied as soon as Sexton stepped between the ropes.

Sexton banged on the top of the microphone, obnoxiously checking to make sure it was on.

"I TOLD YA DADDEH," he began, already being interrupted by jeers from the audience. "I told ya I was a man's man, a ladies' man... and a BAD, BAD MAN!"

The San Jose crowd certainly seemed to think so, as Sexton lowered the mic and allowed the audience reaction to play itself out.

"Last week, LIVE on Shock N' Awe, the whole world got a reminder. A reminder of just how bad I am daddeh. They got a reminder when they saw their hero...The Man Called Thunderbird... bloodied, feathered, and LAID OUT AT MY FEET! ...I didn't think he could GET more red daddeh, until I saw him busted WIDE open!"

He was probably going to catch a lot of flack for that last line. But it was worth it.

"...Oh yes indeed... he had that HEAVY FLOW darlin'..." said Sexton, stopping momentarily as his gaze caught the eye of an overweight woman in the front row. "You know exactly what I'm talkin' about you big ol' nasty bitch!"

A hell of a way to talk to the woman that drove you to the arena.

"But it's not enough daddeh," he continued, getting back on point. "It's not enough for Sexton P.S. Love to show that he's a bad man. He needs to show that he's the BETTER man. I need to beat Thunderbird in the middle of this ring, 1... 2... 3. You heard that right darlin'. The Man They Call Love needs to put DOWN The Man They Call Bird. Down for the three count daddeh.

The challenge had been made, and just like selling those electrifying tee-shirts it was time to sell some pay-per-views. It was time to "talk 'em into the building" as they say, and a sell a wrestling match.

And nobody was a better salesman than Sexton Love.

"...THAT'S why I did what I did last week darlin'. Thunderbird got lucky in our first match. He got lucky when he knocked Sexton Love out of the World's Title Tournament, and denied this company the CHAMPION it deserves. Thunderbird got lucky, so Sexton Love got even. That's right daddeh. Sexton Love needs to be the FACE of American Wrestling Entertainment. He needs to be the FACE... the BODY... the MIND... and the BALLS of this company! He needs to be the World's Heavyweight Champion! We can't have a man like Thunderbird as the World's Champion. That just doesn't fly daddeh. Thunderbird can't be the face of anything, he HIDES his face behind a mask...

So Birdy baby, here's what I want. I want The Man They Call Love vs. The Man They Call Bird... September 18th... Las Vegas, Nevada... LIVE on pay-per-view... AT SIN CITY SHOWDOWN! That's right daddeh, a SHOWDOWN in the wild west. The City of SIN will become the City of LOVE, and I will paint the town RED with your blood. I will prove that I am a MAN'S MAN, A LADIES'S MAN....and the BETTER MAN!

Because SEX......... SE--


His catchphrase was cut-off by the sound of Thunderbird's music, and the sound of the SAP Center erupting. Thunderbird was here. Fans were on their feet, and chanting the mighty Bird's name. This was the confrontation they wanted to see. This confrontation they had paid to see.

Thunderbird stepped out onto the ramp, his eyes fixed on Sexton Love standing down in the ring. He had a bandage still covering the gash across his hairline, just above the top of his blue mask. It was clear that Thunderbird was still the worse for wear, clear that he was still feeling the effects of last week's vicious attack. Clear to everyone except for Thunderbird.

The proud warrior stood defiant, a microphone in his hand. This was a somewhat strange sight, given the fact that the Bird was a man of few words. He did his talking in the ring, from bell to bell. Last week he was doing just that. He had come so close to advancing in the World Championship Tournament, until Sexton Love got himself involved, along with a steel chair, and screwed him out of the match. The Love Doctor proceeded to perform surgery on Thunderbird's head, with the steel chair has his instrument. Thunderbird had come to San Jose for payback. Indeed he held a microphone in his hand, but he was not here to talk.

He was here to fight.

"Why wait until September 18th?" said Thunderbird, walking towards the ring with ruthless intentions. "If you want a showdown, I'm right HERE."

Sexton readied himself in the ring, dropping his own microphone and raising his fights. The Sexecllence of Sexecution seemed just as ready to square off in San Jose.

"You ain't man enough darlin'," yealled Sexton, hands still raised. "You ain't man enough!"

The Love Doctor was a highly intelligent man, but in this case he turned out to be wrong. Without hesitation, Thunderbird rushed the ring, and without hesitation, Sexton love bailed out on the other side.

"Boooooooooo!"

Thunderbird stood tall in the middle of the ring, ready to fight, but Sexton circled around the perimeter shaking his head. Not tonight. Definitely not tonight.

"PAY-PER-VIEW daddeh... Pay. Per. View." said Sexton, with the camera clearly picking up on his words. "I'll see you in Vegas Birdy..."

Sexton continued to circle around the side of the ring, passing by the same large woman he had insulted a few minutes earlier. Enraged, the hefty fan reached out over the barricade attempting to grab the retreating villain, scratching and clawing at his sleeveless shirt and mullet. Sexton immediately yanked himself away and scampered up the ramp.

"Get your hands off me you funky bitch!"
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by tanderbolt
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tanderbolt Time is the substance I am made of

Member Seen 13 days ago

Collaboration with @Silver Carrot
On the Road


"Welcome to Denny's. Can I interest you in a grandslamwich? They're very popular!"

"May I ask what's in a...grandslamwich?"

"You get two eggs, a sausage, some bacon, some ham, mayonaisse, cheese and maple spread. All inside a sandwich."

"....I'll have the cranberry apple chicken salad, please. And some coffee. Thanks."

Oscar stared after the waiter as he left. That sandwich he just suggested sound like 500% of his recommended daily allowance of everything. Better to eat light than eat heavy, in Oscar's opinion. He'll just make up the macro defecit with dinner.

He looked around the restaurant. He'd arrived early and got a table. Jean should be arriving about now. It was surprising how few people had approached him recognising him, though half the bar had stared at him at some point, and one woman had asked if he was an actor. He had replied that he was, in a manner of speaking. Oscar just had one of those faces that people recognise but not where from. It didn't help that at the period where he was World Champ and main heel of the company, he had long hair and no beard. Casual viewers or parents of fans might have a whole conversation with him and not recognise him.

Denny's was a restaraunt that Jean knew well, because they were extremely consistent when it came to being mediocre. The same quality standard persisted across the country, but their grilled chicken was alright and you could find them at about half of the interstate exits in the nation. He didn't like to eat anything too greasy on the road, and Denny's did a better job that rivals like Fridays or Applebees.

He found the table where Oscar was sitting just as the waiter left, but he could flag them down on the next pass. Jean was pretty anonymous, not the kind of wrestler who sold many t-shirts or appeared in advertising, but sitting with Oscar might jog someone's memory more than he would on his own. While he waited, he figured that it would be good to get to business early, they could talk about other matters after their food came. [color=f26522]"So," he said "It's a short feud, but we can make something good. The first match is a throwaway on TV, so it won't be much, but we should think about how the others will go. For the PPV, I was thinking of working the legs, because you've got a lot of flying moves. What would you do, would you match me and go techical, or shift to brawling or something else?"

Oscar thought for a while. "If I mainly use high-flying moves in the tournament match to wrestle smart and keep out your reach, and you worked my legs in the PPV match, I'd probably start with technical, to try and prove that I can do that as well as you can, and when it turns out I can't, then start using a much dirtier brawler style. I think that would tell it's own story with nothing but the styles I'm using."

Jean took a look at the specials on the menu while they talked, just in case there was anything that looked tempting enough to tear him away from his usual dish. He said "You're good with that style switching stuff, I think the crowd would get into it. That's something that's neat about AWE, they encourage people to mix it up. Back in Japan, the promotion and the trainers had their style and I that's what I spent my time working on. I was fine with it, but some people, guys like Caiden, wanted variety so they spent their early years floating between promotions. Speaking of promoter's preferences, have they told you anything specific they want out of us? All I've gotten so far is the finishes."

"That's the good thing about being a pro in this company. You're trusted enough to make up the rest of the match yourself. Having said that, there was a part of the commentary where I claimed I could escape a Tripitaka lock. I'm sorry I have to ask this, and it's okay if you say no, but may I pretty please escape a tripitaka lock without rope-breaking?" Oscar pleased, even linking his hands together in a prey gesture.

Jean smilead and waved his hand, gesturing that everything was alright. "Yeah, I'm alright with that. I like to protect it, but this is program is a little bigger than what I usually do. One of the reasons I went with this finisher is because there's a good escape to it, the forward roll looks clean on the camera and you can chain it into something else. Anything else you want to brainstorm? I've got a couple leglock to armlock transitions that I was thinking of using for the third match, the one where I win. It'll be like I'm building on the working the leg from the PPV match, but this time also wearing down the arm to set up the finish."

Oscar's food arrived at that point. He thanked the waiter then took a forkful of the salad. When he finished, he responded. "I prefer to think up sequences in the training center, but I do have a few spots runing around my head, like hitting you with the belt to win in the first match, but winning the second with an Over and Out. I don't believe in dirty title changes."

Jean put in his order, knowing that it might be a while before it arrived, as the restauraunt was almost full by this point. "Sounds good. After this series, I heard you're going to be part of that big storyline with Caiden. If I remember, you've been wanting to work with him for a while now. It's great that AWE keeps bringing in fresh talent and trying new things, but some of the time I wonder about the new generation. Again, I don't have the benefit of being here long enough to see different eras, but the future of any promotion rests on how it cultivates it's young talent."

"Well," Oscar replied after another mouthful, "As one of the new kids myself once, along with Drayden and Johny Walker, though he left a few years ago, we ushered in the new era that actually seems to be ending now with guys like Caiden being the next faces of the company, and my job as one of the faces of the old generation is to get him over. Then again, from what I've learned about the story for him, we won't need that much of my help to become huge. It doesn't hurt that him, as well as the rest of the new arrivals, are some of the best wrestlers on the planet."

Jean thought for a moment, mulling over the changes AWE had seen. He wasn't a scholar of their history, and even when growing up he only knew about it from channel flipping and advertising, wrestling just wasn't something they watched in the Mpolondo household. "These guys might differ in many things, from styles to experience to personality, but I see the same drive in every one of them. Caiden might have it stronger than anyone. We both started around the same time in Japan and we crossed paths a couple times, but he's always been distant, like nothing outside of the ring matters. I get the feeling that this is what life is about to him, that it's something he can never leave behind even when it's time to go home after the show. I kind of stumbled into this career and I'm grateful for it, but I can't say that it's the fulfillment of my dreams or anything. To me, it's just what I do to support my family."

"I can understand you both to a degree. This used to just be a job to me. I clocked in, wrestled, trained, planned the next match, clocked out and then spent my free time how I chose. But the AWE...well, it is my family now. I don't leave the ring and go back to a normal life, I leave the ring and go back to the locker room, and only ever leave the locker room until it's time for the next match. At least that's how it feels. I'm not sure if I'll ever have time for a real family."

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